Untrained Heart
by Racey
Summary: Ichigo is a warm, kind-hearted kindergarten teacher. Grimmjow is a carpenter with an odd disorder. When their paths cross, interest is sparked and each tries to figure the other out. AU, yaoi, swearing, violence.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**This is a collaboration fic between myself and my buddy, Selphiebunny, who's also an excellent author. Hope you enjoy!**

"It's my toy!"

In the late nineteen sixties, Kurosaki Ichigo smiled benignly down at a pigtailed, blonde, little girl who was shouting loudly at all the other children in her class. Her name was Sarugaki Hiyori and she was by no means a push over. The little girl had a toy truck in one hand, held above all the small fingers trying to snatch it away.

Ichigo's shadow fell ominously over the squabbling children.

"Hiyori! What have I told you about sharing? You know, I just spent the last few weeks explaining the importance of –"

He trailed off, frowning as she seemed to tune him out. She had her little tooth stuck over her bottom lip in the imitation of an overbite, while she bobbed her head back and forth for entertainment.

He growled to himself, taking the worn toy from her hands, while she was too busy ignoring him and put it on his desk out of reach. "I'm going to be making a call to Shinji after school, young lady," he admonished, and then sighed. Shinji was almost as bad as his sister. His behavior was erratic and ridiculous, and something Ichigo didn't really want to deal with when it came to the twenty two year old idiot.

Hiyori just scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. "Fine!"

"And you're in time out until you can learn to stop taunting the other children. Now go!" She marched over to the corner of the brightly decorated kindergarten room of Karakura Elementary, at Ichigo's firm order. Ichigo himself had painted the walls in yellows and pinks, hoping to brighten up the boring standard white walls. The principal, Urahara Kisuke, didn't care.

If anything, he encouraged such creativity. He was never in formal attire, and rarely seen in his office. Ichigo almost always saw him in the halls, talking with teachers and playing with children. He reminded Ichigo a lot of his own father, in a way.

Ichigo smiled, chuckling to himself as the little girl sat on the pink chair designated for the bad girls. There was a matching blue one to her left. She was swinging her scraped up legs back in forth in some small fit of rebellion, a sour expression on her freckled face.

The other children had quickly lost interest in the spectacle, gathering around a play kitchen that was really only a desk that Ichigo drew a stove on. A realistic stove, but still just a desk. Ichigo watched little girls donning frilly aprons he had bought on sale, while boys sat at the tables, waiting for their play food consisting of colorful pieces of paper. Secretly, Ichigo thought it was cute. It was recess, after all.

Rain poured heavily down in pounding rivulets on the large windows, and Ichigo could clearly hear the pitter and patter. He hated rain. He loved taking the children outside in the fresh breeze of a sunny, beautiful day. There was nothing better.

The rain never failed to remind him of his mother's death so many years ago. Never failed to reopen the painful wound. He shook the thought out of his head then, not wanting his mood destroyed.

It was almost time to go home, anyway.

X

The walk home was nothing, if not irritating. Ichigo had a rain coat on, covering his obnoxious head of neon orange hair that was the subject of too much controversy, holding a yellow umbrella up for added protection. As stated, he really hated the rain. He would be glad when today was over and he could see the first specks of sunshine peaking through the windows at home.

There was nothing he loved more than being curled up in comfortable blankets, waking up to dark eyes staring down at him.

His lover was a very serious, quiet man, but Ichigo knew deep down he loved him. He knew.

He had fallen in love with Kuchiki Byakuya at the tender age of nineteen. Byakuya had beentwenty one. They had met through Byakuya's sister, who happened to be Ichigo's best friend. He and Rukia had grown up together. One day while helping Rukia in her garden after school, her brother had watched them from the patio.

Ichigo had been stricken by him. That was the only explanation he could give.

It was almost like an instantaneous attraction. Byakuya was beautiful, there was no denying that. Rukia had mercilessly made fun of his infatuation, teasing him from then on. Ichigo had chased him for two odd years, hoping beyond hope the man would acknowledge his presence in some way. He knew the Kuchiki's were rich and he wasn't, but he just didn't care. He was stubborn as a mule when it came to certain things, and he had a strong feeling that Byakuya was like him.

Finally, after many failed attempts by both he and Rukia, Byakuya approached _him_, showing up on his door step one afternoon.

Words were not exchanged.

Ichigo smiled, remembering the kiss Byakuya had forced on him, taking his lips expertly. It was so hard for homosexuals, so to be able to have a lover was something precious. Ichigo would do anything for the man, and he knew, though Byakuya didn't say much, hefelt the same way.

They had been together going on three years. And they were happy. Ichigo had wanted to become a teacher after his late mother, and his father readily supported him. Byakuya had a job at a local company, not too deep in the heart of bustling Karakura. Thankfully, they had moved into a small house in the countryside, to get away from all the _looks_ and _whispers_ and "_those two men are living together… are they… disgusting." _

Byakuya's family, too. Rukia was amazing, never judging them; judging _Ichigo_, but the rest of the Kuchiki's were a different story. They despised Ichigo and wanted Byakuya to stop such a silly affair and return to marry a chosen bride and continue the lineage.

To say Ichigo was insecure was an understatement.

But he just held his head up high and stood his ground.

He sighed, hating how the stupid rain always brought out his worst worries and troubles. The bus stop was crowded this afternoon, so he stood behind to wait. The dingy bus would drop him off close to the home he shared with Byakuya, but he would have to walk the rest of the way. Byakuya was working late and had the car.

He generally didn't mind. Even with the forceful drops of liquid hitting him, he still didn't complain.

When Ichigo finally reached the little white house in the middle of nowhere, he nearly whooped for joy. Quickly opening the door, he threw down the umbrella and tugged off his rain boots and shed his coat, enjoying the warmth the quaint abode provided. Byakuya made sure to keep it spotless on his off time, so he would have to clean the puddles of water up before the other man came home.

There was a loud gurgling noise coming from Ichigo's stomach. He would have blushed if his lover was around, and laughed at Byakuya's automatic disapproving stare.

The house felt empty with just him.

He padded to the tiny kitchen, staring at the lonely looking note on the counter beside the refrigerator.

Ichigo picked it up with a scowl. In precise handwriting, it read:

_Ichigo,_

_Please call the carpenter about the addition to the porch and reschedule. _

_Byakuya_

Ichigo scowled harder.

Byakuya could have at least added "love". After nearly three years, the cold man hadn't so much as used that word around him, and it was beginning to both annoy and dishearten him. It was like Byakuya was some sort of machine, cold and repetitious, incapable of functioning with emotions.

Ichigo knew that when they began their tumultuous relationship, but he still yearned for something more. Something he wasn't quite sure Byakuya could give.

But who could he run to? It's not like he could leave, with him barely making enough money to support himself. With the "disease" called homosexuality. With ridiculously _natural_ orange hair. He was a walking punch line.

Shaking his head free of his dark thoughts, Ichigo studied the perfectly written note. No one told him about a porch addition. He glared at the note. Obviously a carpenter would know not to come on a rainy day. Ugh, he hated talking to strangers on the phone; something just irked him about it.

Sighing petulantly, he looked down and prodded at his poor stomach. It would have to wait.

Before he could pick up the phone, it rang with shrill little sounds that did nothing for his mood. Ichigo picked up, murmuring a quiet greeting.

The other person on the line hesitated for a few seconds it seemed and then spoke softly, but his voice sounded rough as if the man never used it. Gravelly. Something twisted deep inside Ichigo, but he kicked the feeling down.

He almost missed what the man was saying. "_I'm calling about the job you wanted me to start today. Not going to happen." _

Ichigo frowned at the clipped tone, sticking out his bottom lip in contemplation. Well, obviously. "Yeah, it's raining pretty hard. How about sometime next week?" He almost said _I'll get my boyfriend to call you,_ but immediately stopped himself. You just couldn't do that. Living in the country was spoiling him.

"We'll give you a call…?"

"_Jaegerjaques."_

"Alright, when the rain stops we'll give you a call."

The line went dead. Ichigo blinked, holding the device away from him with a puzzled expression. What a strange fellow… but he must have been good, because to say Byakuya was particular was a complete understatement.

Ichigo thought their porch was fine the way it was, but an argument would just send the man further away from him. When they did fight, it was as if Ichigo was yelling just to hear his own voice. Like he was the child and Byakuya an admonishing parent.

With a heavy sigh, Ichigo padded to their bedroom, suddenly losing his appetite.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow hung up his black, rotary telephone and glanced out the window of his kitchen.

_He hated using the phone; he'd much rather say what he had to say face-to-face_.

His day was now ruined, due to the weather, but thankfully, he always had a backup plan. He set the small slip of paper containing his recent client's phone number on the counter and left the kitchen, headed for the garage.

His home was small and had taken a little over two and a half years to build and furnish to his liking. He was a hopeless perfectionist, but in the end, it made for a solid foundation and a cozy home that was his haven away from the world. His home, probably the size of a small church, had two floors, as well as a basement and garage, the first floor containing a modest sitting room with Birch wood flooring and a beige, suede sofa. He didn't entertain much, but for decorative purposes, had added a long coffee table, made out of an excellent grade of Mahogany.

After the sitting room, was the small dining room that he never used, but just because he enjoyed making the furniture, he'd included a large, Walnut dining table, with six matching chairs. He would have to say the kitchen was his second favorite room of the house, since he had painstakingly carved and cut his own cabinets out of Cherry wood. There was a half bath that finished off the first floor, but he never used it.

The second floor held three bedrooms, one of which he kept as a guest room, sparsely furnished with a White Oak dresser and bed frame. The floor was the same Birch wood throughout the house; he didn't really care for anything else and the one window was covered with a dark-blue curtain. There was another bedroom that he'd converted into a collection room, where he housed all of his wood carvings. Handmade mahogany bookshelves lined all the walls and were filled with wooden figurines and other such trinkets he'd created during his spare time, which was basically when he wasn't doing carpentry work around the small town. His bedroom was also sparsely furnished, but he'd taken more care to detail the headboard of his bed. The wood he'd used for his bedroom furniture, which included a long dresser and two nightstands, was Cherry and the carving on his headboard was of a crescent moon, overlooking a small city resting on a sea of sand.

He didn't have a TV anywhere in the house, but he did have a radio. Whenever he worked in the garage, he turned the radio to a classical music station and left the world behind for hours at a time. He loved classical music, particularly Bach and Beethoven.

Ever since he'd been a boy of around eight, he'd known he was different from other people. High school had been hell for him because he hadn't understood why the other teenagers looked at him funny whenever he tried to converse with them, or why most girls that had spoken to him, would most times be reduced to tears or raging fury. The prom had been out of the question. Not only did he not know how to dance, but he hated crowds. He liked dressing up and looking nice, though, and his adoptive mother had wanted him to go so badly.

_She'd even bought him a tuxedo_.

He had put the outfit on just to appease her and so she could take pictures for her photo album, but he hadn't understood all the hubbub. She'd flitted around him wearing a yellow, paisley print, house dress and a pair of white flats, while she snapped photo after photo. He remembered the stiff material of the tux and how he'd given such lame excuses for smiles, but Neliel had been ecstatic.

After high school, he had become the apprentice of the local carpenter. He'd always had a thing for building and working with his hands and when he'd turned fourteen, Neliel had given him a wood carving kit for Christmas.

_It was his one true treasure and he still worked with it to this day_.

The man he'd apprenticed for, Barragan Luisenbarn, whom he called Old Man, had treated him like his own and when the man had passed on two years back, he'd left his lucrative business to Grimmjow. Grimmjow didn't have a license, but his work was far superior to any certified carpenter, so no one really questioned him.

He had a strict routine that he faithfully adhered to, only allowing for slight changes, which were still very much loathed when they occurred. He woke up every morning at four-thirty, showered, dressed and had breakfast in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, where he was able to look out the window and watch the sun rise. After that, he went about starting his day. If he had a job, he would head there and work until five or six in the evening, breaking at twelve for lunch. He usually packed his own, but on the chance that he didn't, he would go into town for a bite to eat at the local diner.

At the end of his work day, he would head to the bar that was five minutes from his home and limit himself to two beers before he headed home for the evening. Once home, he would shower, fix dinner, eat and then work in the garage on his wood carving until he was thoroughly exhausted. _Wood carving was his hobby and he enjoyed it immensely_. _He could sit in his garage all day, sometimes without breaks, working on figurines or other projects_. He never gave them away, most going into his favorite room on the second floor. The town's people knew him as the mean, weird guy that did great carpentry and strangely..._he was ok with that_.

_Speaking of routines, he needed to call his mom_. Neliel scolded him if he didn't call her every week and so far, he had forgotten to call this week. He doubled back to the kitchen and his phone, dialing the only number, aside from his own, that he knew by heart. Three rings and an overly cheerful voice filtered through the earpiece.

"Hello?"

"Neliel," he stated.

Neliel's voice brightened further, "Grimmjow! Hi, Sweetie! How are you?"

"Fine. I was fine last week too," he answered, not understanding why Neliel felt the need to ask him that every time they spoke.

She giggled and he could imagine her smoothing her long, sea-green hair, "That's good. When are you coming by again? I'm making spaghetti and meatballs this weekend."

She always offered him food and most times it worked, as long as he knew about it ahead of time. "I can come this weekend."

"Great! So, Saturday, then?" she asked, her voice reminding him of the sun on his face and chocolate chip cookies.

"What time?" he inquired, hoping she would account for his job.

"Is seven good?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Ok, honey, see you on Saturday. I love you."

He didn't get why people felt the need to say things like that, but Neliel had told him she liked when he said it back, "Love you, too," he mumbled and hung up.

_With that out of the way, he was free to go work in the garage_.

**XxxxxX**

Grimmjow jerked out of his daydream and glared at the interruption. _His phone was ringing at five-thirty in the morning?_ He frowned and slid off the kitchen counter, picked up the receiver, "Hello."

"Is this Luisenbarn Carpentry?" a deep voice asked, confident and somewhat condescending.

"Yes," he replied.

"This is Byakuya Kuchiki. I hired you to add a wrap-around porch to my home two days ago."

Grimmjow remembered. _He never forgot a job_. "Yes."

"Can you start today? This morning would be preferable. I won't be here to get you started, but my, er, roommate will," the man continued, his voice a boring drawl.

"I can be there at six," Grimmjow responded, glancing at the clock over the back door.

"Good. I'll let my roommate know." With that the line went dead.

Grimmjow replaced the receiver and cleared his breakfast dishes, gulped down his orange juice and headed out to his truck, a Cony 360 pickup truck. He checked the tarp that covered the bed of the vehicle, making sure it was still in place and hadn't flown off overnight during the rain. He slid behind the wheel and headed for his client's home. He remembered the name of the main road the man, Kuchiki, had given him, so he could find the house with relative ease. He never really had a problem finding clients' homes once he'd been given a main road and general directions from there.

Twenty minutes later and he pulled into the drive of a small, white house, a porch running the width of the front. The door was open and an orange-haired man was standing on the threshold. The sun was up and shining, the sky a pale blue and the air was a bit chilly, but nicer than the day before.

Grimmjow parked and strode up to the porch. The orange-haired man's eyebrows went skyward and maple brown eyes widened. Grimmjow stuck his hands in his pockets and scowling a bit, avoided eye contact with the shorter man.

"I was hired to make an addition to the porch," he stated.

"Uh, y-yeah, Byakuya told me. Um, do you need anything to get started? I'm Ichigo, by the way," the other man spoke.

Grimmjow liked the way his voice sounded. It was kind and warm, happy. A little bit nervous, too. _He made a lot of people nervous, but he really didn't know why_.

"No," he answered and turned his back, headed for his truck and supplies.

He hadn't even noticed the hand the guy had held out for him to shake.

**So, let us know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

**This chapter was mostly written by the lovely Selphiebunny. I only added in Grimmjow's POV. Enjoy and bask in her awesomeness! XD**

Onwards...

**XxXx**

Ichigo watched the blue haired carpenter work from the kitchen with a sense of wonder and, despite himself, arousal. It was only his human nature. The man was absolutely gorgeous; there was just no other way to describe him.

He had stuttered like an idiot when they were first introduced. It was beyond embarrassing, to say the least. Ichigo watched as he bent down to root around in his tool box, savoring the sight of lightly tanned flesh revealed by the man's shirt riding up just the slightest.

And then, all at once, Ichigo shook his head violently as if he was shaking off a particularly large, nasty spider. He was acting so shamefully, and not even thinking about Byakuya. He was disgusted with himself. The need for a shower was almost overwhelming.

Instead of going through with the latter, Ichigo decided to make tea. Tea always calmed him down and left his head a little bit cleared. And he figured the carpenter would appreciate the gesture, as well. The man seemed somewhat standoffish, but Ichigo assumed he was just intensely focused on his task.

Ten minutes later, Ichigo walked outside with a mug full of hot tea. Grimmjow was currently measuring lengths of different sizes of wood, his back once again to Ichigo without any sign of acknowledgment.

"Grimmjow," he inquired softly, holding out his hand. The man didn't look up, his brows creased in concentration.

Ichigo frowned. He hated being ignored. "Grimmjow," he tried again, this time slightly louder.

Finally, the blue haired man gave him the attention he wanted, equally deep blue eyes flicking up in recognition at his presence, but otherwise, his face remained impassive.

Ichigo smiled. "It's been a few hours; I thought you would like some tea?"

It happened almost in slow motion. Grimmjow, Ichigo could have sworn, was crouched down. And then all of a sudden, he was right in Ichigo's face. He could nearly feel the soft puffs of breath on his cheek from the other man. In his shock, he had dropped the mug, staining Grimmjow's otherwise perfectly white t-shirt, to his horror.

Immediately, Ichigo began a litany of apologies. "I'm sorry, I was just surprised, god, I can't believe I-I just did that –"

Grimmjow had a scowl on his face, pushing away Ichigo's shaking hands that were feebly grasping the air in nervous confusion. "No, it's alright. I'll just take it off, see?" Ichigo looked up at him, entranced as he continued on. "I prefer not to wear a shirt when I'm working on projects at home anyway. It limits me and I don't feel as comfortable." Grimmjow didn't stop there, and Ichigo listened, wide eyed, as the other man proceeded to fill the span of the next five minutes about how he liked to carve intricate figurines in the garage of his home.

When he finished, all Ichigo could do was stare. Grimmjow didn't look at his face one time during his drawn out explanation. Instead of being offended, as was expected, Ichigo was intrigued. Why wouldn't Grimmjow maintain eye contact? Was it Ichigo's glaringly ugly orange hair?

"I need to get back to work," the carpenter stated blandly, peeling off the tea soaked shirt with ease and flinging it over into the bed of his truck. Ichigo blushed furiously when the rest of that tan skin was revealed. Grimmjow's body could have been a work of art itself. He was lean, but clearly muscled from years of hard work, defined abdominal muscles outlined as if they were etched in and his arms were roped with thick muscles.

Sinful, really.

Ichigo was almost jealous. Being a kindergarten teacher had the disadvantages of being stuck in a classroom most of the day, with little time for activity.

"I'll wash your shirt, and make some more tea."

"That's unnecessary. I told you, I'm fine," Grimmjow murmured, already reaching down to retrieve his measuring tape.

With a frown, and a little bit crestfallen, Ichigo retrieved the fallen, now dirty, tea mug and shakily went back into the house, deciding a shower later would be a great use of time.

**xx**

Staring outside at the backyard, Ichigo felt his nerves ease. The day was so beautiful, the sun shining down from big, fluffy white clouds amidst a crystal clear, blue sky. He had planted two flower beds beside the back door, and there was a clothes line and a modest vegetable garden in the center of the manicured lawn. Deep down, he absolutely _loved _just staring at the little place he liked to call his sanctuary, but he wouldn't ever admit to such a feminine hobby out loud.

His thoughts returned to his task at hand. A white shirt stared up at him, soggy from water, in the kitchen sink. The stain Ichigo had accidentally caused was now significantly faded. New tea was on the stove, probably tastier than the last pot he had made. Life was getting better as the day got longer, and his nerves settled.

Grimmjow hadn't spoken to him after their encounter. He was a very determined and focused man, that much was rapidly made apparent. Ichigo hadn't seen him take a break yet. He knew a fierce blush was crawling its way up his neck and covering his cheeks when he remembered Grimmjow being so close, he could almost taste the minty toothpaste on the other's breath.

"I'm being ridiculous," Ichigo chided himself. He took out some bread and hastily put together a few sandwiches. His hands were shaking nervously.

_Why did this man have him so on edge?_ It was like Ichigo was terrified of something, but he certainly couldn't discern what. Grimmjow wasn't mean, didn't even know him, really. So, why?

He swallowed down the questions and took a plate and a new cup out, surprised to find the other man already sitting under an apple tree Byakuya had wanted him to plant when they first moved into the small home. The tree had a long way to go, but Ichigo was absurdly protective, not to mention proud, of it. Approaching slowly, Ichigo suddenly felt like an idiot. Here he was, carrying food and drinks, while the carpenter had already brought something, and by the looks of it, was about to finish, but Ichigo couldn't just turn around and march back into the house without looking silly, either.

He was already blaming this entire mess of awkwardness on his bastard lover. Byakuya got to hide away in an office building all day, while Ichigo was stuck calling off work – which he loved – just to take care of welcoming the carpenter and, who was he kidding, mothering his steps. Byakuya was beyond obsessive about perfection.

Sometimes, Ichigo felt more like a personal assistant than a lover.

Ichigo scowled and plopped down, glaring heatedly at the sandwiches he painstakingly (okay, not _really)_ made and viciously took a bite out of one. Grimmjow was watching him, eyes trained on his hands. It was unnerving.

"Your hands are shaking," Grimmjow pointed out around a mouthful of ham and something else entirely.

"You're perceptive," Ichigo fired back, tempted to snarl like a rabid animal at the other man, before soothing his temper with thoughts of later. There was going to be an argument on the horizon tonight, and Ichigo couldn't wait for Byakuya to stroll in the door, looking poised and elegant in a tailored suit, before Ichigo rained on his mood with biting anger and thunderstorm-esque shouting.

There was silence. Without gauging Grimmjow's expression, Ichigo whispered a small "I'm sorry," in hopes the carpenter wouldn't hear him.

"For what?" But he did. Ichigo cursed.

He looked up into Grimmjow's sculpted, beautiful face. The man seemed to be looking at his shoe laces with a deep amount of interest. Unnerving.

"About acting weird. It's not you or anything, if you're starting to think that. The man that called you, he lives with me and he can get on my nerves. I guess. I don't want to preach to you, sorry." Ichigo sighed.

A frown formed, tipping Grimmjow's full lips downward. "Then, why are you telling me this?"

Ichigo sputtered, almost insulted at the blunt, blasé remark. He wasn't used to people being rude to him, so he wasn't sure how to respond. It was a little hurtful, to be honest. Huffing, he sat down the plate of barely touched food, crossing his legs and leaning his hands back on the plush grass. "I'm just letting you know why I was acting strange earlier, and well, now."

There was a grunt in return, before Grimmjow stood to his full height, shaking off stray strands of grass and pieces of dirt from his well worn jeans. Ichigo watched with a sense of fascination as he promptly turned and went back to work without so much as a nod.

_Prick_.

Ichigo simmered in the startling rays of warming sunlight, a blush staining his cheeks. This man was going to give him a heart attack.

He let out a bone tired sigh, standing up with the left over sandwich and cup, retreating back into the house like a kicked puppy.

He missed the children in his class. They always made him happy, despite petty fights or spilled tears. He enjoyed hearing the squabbling kids, practically _lived_ for kids, thus the obvious choice in life was to become a teacher. His father could do nothing but support him, and his sisters were the same. They were his spine in any situation. The thoughts of his family left a hole in his heart, swelling and growing, suffocating him the more he thought about them.

He hadn't seen them in nearly two months. His father and sisters lived well past Karakura, taking up residency in a modest clinic on the outskirts of the city, a two hour drive. Ichigo hated it, but he couldn't help but enjoy where he lived now. He reasoned to call them tomorrow. His father hated technology of any kind, but he figured one of his adorable sisters would answer for their brother.

The sour cloud over his head seemed to lift at the promise of familiarity, of his family. He loved Byakuya, but he was so _lonely_ when there was no one else in the house, or he didn't go to work.

It was a terrible feeling.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow went back to work, his heart trying to beat its way free from his chest. He hadn't really expected to be approached by the orange-haired man named Ichigo, but that was exactly what had happened. While Ichigo hadn't been paying attention during his walk towards him, he had taken the time to examine him more closely.

Ichigo was shorter than him. Probably around 5'9", 5'10". His bright, orange hair was spiky and cut short, the front covering his brow and the back layering over his neck. It practically glowed under the gleaming sun, golden highlights accentuated. His eyes were a warm bronze and his body was subtly toned from what Grimmjow could see underneath the black, short-sleeved t-shirt and slim-fitting khaki pants the man wore.

What he liked the most about the man, though, was his kind voice. It was deep and husky, very comforting, and he felt he could listen to it all day. Kind of like the way he listened to his classical music at home. He hadn't really minded Ichigo talking, but he hadn't understood the reason for the rambling. As far as he was concerned, Ichigo hadn't done anything wrong. People spilled things all the time. Grimmjow knew he did.

Done with the necessary measuring, Grimmjow brought out his saw and began cutting off lengths of Redwood. Redwood was really expensive, but it lasted a long time and looked a lot nicer than some other woods that were good for outdoor building. Throw some sealer on it and it would last even longer.

The manual labor was invigorating and after ten minutes, he had completely forgotten about his encounter with Ichigo. The sun beat down on him, making sweat form and run down his face, exposed back and chest as he lugged wooden planks over to his work area, which happened to be the eastern side of the house.

About an hour and a half later, he realized he hadn't brought any water with him that day, but he figured he could ask Ichigo for a glass, considering the orange-haired man was so eager to share things with him. Grimmjow stood and placed a hand on his hip, taking a minute to catch his breath before he headed up to the front door. It was still open, although, Ichigo was nowhere to be found.

He stepped inside and took in the small foyer, a staircase leading to an upper level and a doorway to his left that led into a sitting room. The walls were a pale blue, the floors a light-colored hardwood. Probably Soft Maple or even Poplar. Grimmjow made his way deeper into the quaint little abode, ending up in a nice-sized kitchen with pale yellow walls and the same Soft Maple made up the cabinets and floor. _Ichigo wasn't there, either_.

Frowning, he turned on his heel and doubled back the way he had come. He peered into the sitting room, noticing the light-brown walls and maroon sofa. They had a long, wooden coffee table (probably Mahogany), framed pictures decorated the walls and they even had a TV.

_Still, no Ichigo_.

Grimmjow quirked a brow and headed up the stairs.

_He didn't think Ichigo was a TV person_.

His search led him to what he assumed was a bedroom, a modest, full-sized, western-styled bed pushed against the far wall. Speaking of the wall, the theme was a burnt orange trimmed with beige. The curtains were also beige. Although the room was clearly a bedroom, it didn't look lived in at all. It seemed more like a guest bedroom than anything. Grimmjow scowled, annoyed that he still hadn't located the orange-haired man. He turned and moved to the next room, which was another bedroom, this one sporting walls that were a deep purple hue. The trim was lavender, the furniture a nice Hickory.

The bed was rumpled, clearly unmade, the deep blue blanket and sheets tossed around haphazardly. A drawer on the dresser was left open and clothes were strewn across the unmade bed. Grimmjow cocked his head to the side. This room was the only one that actually seemed lived in. Shrugging and blowing out a frustrated breath, he left the doorway and headed for the only remaining door. It was cracked and the nearer he got, the clearer the sound of running water became.

He approached the door and pushed it open, pausing in the threshold at the sight that greeted him. Steam billowed towards him, but his keen vision made it easy for him to see the man standing behind a clear shower curtain. Ichigo rubbed his hands over his body, traveling over his chest and sides. Grimmjow hadn't expected to be intrigued by what he saw, considering he had the same anatomy. There shouldn't have been anything interesting about another man's body, but for some reason, he found himself riveted and unable to look away.

Smooth, glistening, tanned skin stretched on for what seemed like miles. Bright orange hair was now a darker shade, due to the water and the smell coming from the small stall reminded him of Neliel's soap. It always reminded him of girls and candy. Ichigo washed himself very methodically, starting with his neck and traveling down over his chest and legs. He did the same with rinsing the suds from his body.

Grimmjow was so immersed in his staring, he didn't notice the water shutting off, or the curtain being pulled aside, but he did notice the loud, almost womanly scream.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Ichigo hollered, his copper-colored eyes wide and disbelieving.

Grimmjow avoided the other man's gaze and crossed his arms over his chest, "You weren't in the kitchen, so I came to find you," he muttered, wondering why Ichigo was so worked up.

Ichigo draped the translucent curtain around his waist, obviously trying to keep his lower region from view as his voice returned to normal levels. It actually deepened and carried an unmistakable threat, "If you don't get the hell out right now, I'm calling the police," he informed.

Grimmjow had heard that having the police called wasn't such a good idea, so he nodded and left the bathroom without another word. He tromped down to the kitchen and stood in the small space, waiting for Ichigo to come down. He leaned against the Formica counter-top and crossed his arms over his chest.

He wanted to know what the hell had Ichigo so upset. It wasn't like they had different body parts. Neliel had explained to him the concept of privacy when he was younger, and had inquired why women and girls used different bathrooms than men and boys, but that wasn't the case in this situation. He and Ichigo were both men, so there was no reason for the guy to be all angry. Ichigo had nothing Grimmjow hadn't seen already.

Loud footsteps on the stairs made him glance at the kitchen doorway. Ichigo stormed his way, chestnut eyes on fire. He was wearing a dark-green t-shirt and black windbreaker pants, the material swishing noisily as he made his furious approach. Grimmjow watched him steadily until Ichigo's eyes locked with his and destroyed his comfort level. He averted his gaze, but was very aware of the blazing red head's arrival in the kitchen. The air seemed to thicken and resonate with silence.

"Why the hell were you watching me shower?" Ichigo asked without preamble.

Grimmjow glanced into his eyes, but immediately looked away, "I told you, you weren't in here, so-"

"So, what the hell? That just gives you the right to walk into someone's bathroom while they're showering?" Ichigo interrupted incredulously.

"Why are you angry?" he asked simply, face blank and voice empty.

"I was naked! You don't just walk into someone's bathroom and watch them shower! There's this little thing called privacy, you know!"

Grimmjow frowned and shifted his stance, "You're a man. You don't have anything special that I haven't seen before," he stated, still confused as to why Ichigo thought he deserved privacy. _He wasn't a woman, so the same rules didn't apply_.

Ichigo was suddenly rather quiet and Grimmjow chanced a glance in his direction. The orange-haired man's face was crimson and the flush was spreading down towards his neck and up over his ears. His hands were fisted at his sides and his mouth was tightened into an angry, little ball. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

Grimmjow sighed exasperatedly. _He didn't think Ichigo was this slow when he'd first met him_, "We have the same parts. I see what you have everyday when I shower and use the bathroom. In other words, you have a dick and I have a dick. You understand?" he asked patiently, hoping his explanation was enough to make the other man understand.

Ichigo was trembling, his hands white from being balled up so tightly. "Y-you-"

"Are you cold?" Grimmjow interrupted, brow creased in a scowl and eyes focused on Ichigo's shaking limbs.

"Is this a joke? Are you joking?"

"No," he answered, frown deepening. Grimmjow glanced at the clock over the stove and turned back to Ichigo. _He needed to get back to work_. "Do you have water?" he asked.

Ichigo's eyes widened in shock and his mouth fell open, "W-water?"

Grimmjow ran a large hand through his hair, tousling it in the process, "Yes. I forgot to bring my own."

Ichigo took a deep breath, held up both hands and shook his head before nodding and making his way to the refrigerator. "Yeah, I'll get it for you," he issued, turning his back to Grimmjow.

Grimmjow nodded, his face still blank as he shoved his hands into his pockets and waited by the kitchen door. He watched Ichigo grab a pitcher of water from the fridge, then turn to the cabinets over the sink, where he retrieved a tall glass and filled it with the clear liquid. He turned to Grimmjow and handed off the glass. It was ice cold and just barely perspiring, making Grimmjow lick his lips in anticipation. He drank down the contents in a mere few gulps, his shoulders sagging in satisfaction. When he was done, he handed the glass back to the orange-haired man still watching his every move.

Grimmjow averted his gaze again, but not before he'd spotted a peculiar expression on Ichigo's face. Those warm eyes no longer held the glint from a few minutes ago, but were now darker, their focus alternating between Grimmjow's throat and mouth. He shrugged, not recognizing the lust that look represented and left the kitchen, headed back outside to try to finish the cutting for the day, leaving a very bewildered orange-haired man behind to watch his departure.

**XxXx**

Ichigo had no real words to accurately describe his feelings when Grimmjow left for the day. The man had departed a few minutes ago, and all he could do was let out a giant breath of relief and face the onslaught of overwhelming embarrassment. He knew a mean blush was rushing to his face at the thought of someone other than Byakuya viewing him naked.

It was humiliating.

But his thoughts kept returning to the enraptured gaze Grimmjow had been giving him as he watched Ichigo shower. Grimmjow hadn't meant any harm, not really, so that was the _only_ reason Ichigo hadn't thrown his fist back and knocked the strange carpenter in the jaw. It was as if Grimmjow was a child, with analyzing eyes full of some piece of innocence Ichigo couldn't really describe. He shook his head, trying desperately to clear it.

The slow burn of anger crawled into his gut. Byakuya would be home within the hour, and he just couldn't _wait_ to lay it into the refined, older man. But he didn't think he would tell Byakuya about the shower incident. Knowing him, he'd have Grimmjow fired, and Ichigo didn't believe the situation called for such extremes. He sighed loudly, knowing it was pointless in the end. Byakuya would simply ignore his threats and turn on the stupid new television he had bought, or read the newspaper like Ichigo's complaints didn't matter. It was insufferable.

Ten minutes later, the front door slowly opened, Byakuya quietly stepping in, hanging up his jacket gracefully and taking off his dress shoes, leaving him in an ironed, white dress shirt and perfect, black slacks. Ichigo was in the kitchen door way, a snarl curling his lips as he watched the black haired man.

"Kurosaki-"

"Don't use my last name, Byakuya!" he nearly screamed, anger bubbling up like poison.

Dark eyes hardened upon the clipped, furious tone. "Ichigo, what's wrong?" Byakuya's voice was far from concerned, a silent fury now burning in those inky depths. Byakuya abhorred his outbursts of anger, Ichigo knew that much.

"I'm tired of playing housewife," Ichigo growled, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. "I missed work for this, for _you_. The least you could do is be appreciative."

"I appreciate you," was Byakuya's monotone reply. He had easily moved past the slightly smaller male, and went to the refrigerator to take out some tea. He sipped on a glass as he listened to Ichigo.

"The hell you do," Ichigo hissed, rounding on him. "You don't give a shit what I do, as long as it's what you want. It's like I'm your maid and receptionist, instead of your lover. But you can't have it all; I refuse to be chained to you. Something has to change."

They stared at each other, Byakuya calm and collected, while Ichigo was panting and flushed with exertion.

Finally, Byakuya closed his eyes and sat the glass on the counter. "What brought this on? How long have you been so unhappy with me?"

Ichigo felt the unmistakable pang of guilt, now. "I…I'm not unhappy with _you_, just your actions. You act like my job isn't important, that it's replaceable because _you_ have a better one, and that if I lose it, it's not a big deal. But it is! To _me_. Byakuya, I love you, but I hate the way you treat me," Ichigo finished bluntly, not missing the subtle change on the other man's otherwise impassive face.

"I'm sorry, Ichigo. I did not mean for you to get that impression. However, my work is very important to me as well, and unfortunately, out of the two of us, it does pay more. Therefore, you should understand the need for sacrifices that have to be made in order for us to enjoy our life together."

The glare Ichigo sent Byakuya could have melted steel. "Who wanted the addition made? It certainly wasn't me."

Byakuya huffed, his mask of tranquility finally cracking in his irritation. "It's for the benefit of both of us. Now, let's stop this. Come here."

It wasn't a request by any means, but the finality of his tone left no room for further argument. Byakuya opened up his arms, but his thin lips were slanted in a hard line. Ichigo shook his head but relented, too tired to fight. He slowly walked over to the black haired man, letting arms envelope him in a tight, almost uncomfortable hug. Ichigo braced his hands on Byakuya's chest, looking up into endless midnight eyes.

It was time Ichigo realized, unlike the seasons, people didn't change.

Neither man noticed the set of piercing blue eyes watching them from the kitchen window in contemplation.

**So are you any closer to guessing Grimmjow's disorder? LoL! Let us know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

**Warning: there will be het this chapter. Sorry if that offends anyone. It's all to give you a better understanding of things, though.**

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow shuffled into the darkened bar and made his way to his normal seat at the far end of the long, wooden partition. It was always empty whenever he arrived and for some reason, he felt that it was kept that way on purpose. The bartender, a tall, dark-haired man by the name of Nnoitra Jiruga, stood wiping down a segment of the bar, his left eye mysteriously covered with a black bandana. This evening, Nnoitra wore a loose-fitting, black t-shirt and blue jeans.

Grimmjow climbed onto the black, leather stool he always occupied and waited to catch Nnoitra's attention. Pleasantly enough, he didn't even have to because Nnoitra sat a large mug filled with beer, the white suds lining the rim, right in front of him, not even ten seconds after he'd taken a seat.

Wearing a grin, he lifted the mug and sipped, his eyes sliding shut in gratification. This was the only worldly "sin" he allowed himself to indulge in. Ever since he'd been nineteen and had met Barragan, who shortly after, introduced him to the wondrous beverage called beer, he hadn't been able to stop drinking it. He never had enough to get inebriated, but he did love the taste of it.

It was slightly bitter, cold and carbonated, the aftermath leaving his gut simmering in a slow warmth. _He loved it_. Neliel scolded him sometimes, but then she would laugh at herself, claiming she kept forgetting he was "all grown up now". He didn't see how she could forget. _It wasn't like he still looked like a teenager_.

Remembering his teenage days was like walking through a prickly rose bush: painful and frustrating. He had been tall, gangly and his hair had never seemed to listen to his repeated attempts at brushing and combing it. Before he'd hit puberty, his voice had been squeaky and annoying, which only added to his desire to remain silent.

Then, when sixteen rolled around, he suddenly noticed that girls eyed him more and guys began giving him dirty, jealous looks. He didn't understand why, although he had been intensely grateful his voice had stopped cracking and squeaking. He had wanted to have friends, tried talking to other teens his age, but their conversations never went well. Girls said strange things to him about his muscles and his hair, not to mention his eyes, but whenever he had managed a response, they always got pissed or moved to tears. Again, he hadn't understood why. He had merely distanced himself, deciding keeping away was a better, less stressful option. That way, he wouldn't have to worry about having awkward conversations or making girls mad at him for no apparent reason.

Grimmjow wrapped his hand around the handle of the mug and passed his nose across the rim of the cup, enjoying the unique smell. He wasn't into hard liquor because it was too easy to get intoxicated and he didn't like the feeling of being unable to control his behavior. When he'd first started drinking beer, Barragan hadn't offered any restraint and since Grimmjow enjoyed the taste of the new beverage so much, he'd consumed more than he should have.

The results, in his opinion, hadn't been pretty and light years away from fun, but Barragan had thought the spectacle was hilarious and had laughed unceasingly, thoroughly having a ball at his expense. Grimmjow hadn't been able to stop talking about any and everything that came to mind. His speech had been pathetically slurred and his clumsiness had been set to EPIC. Barragan had ended up making him crash on his couch, while he called Neliel and let her know where he was staying for the night.

Ever since then, Grimmjow limited himself to two, never more, for fear of having an encore of that night so many years ago.

Grimmjow took another swallow of the cold brew and allowed his eyes to surreptitiously roam the bar, sweeping over a few men and women. He noticed a man wearing a bright orange t-shirt and the color immediately reminded him of Ichigo. Ichigo, with his kind eyes and soothing voice. Ichigo, who possessed a body that made Grimmjow curious and inquisitive.

_Ichigo, who had been kissing his roommate_.

Grimmjow scowled, confused as he peered down into his frosted mug. _He didn't know it was OK for men to kiss other men the way Ichigo had been kissing his roommate_. In society, he'd always seen women kissing men and vice versa. He, personally, didn't see the problem with men kissing other men, but from what he'd seen around, he was sure it was frowned upon. Grimmjow just thought if you liked someone, then you should be able to kiss and be with that person, no matter what their gender was.

He had always wondered about that since his high school days. _Why was it bad for those of the same gender to be with each other intimately and romantically? Why did society have to label everything and if it didn't fit into what they believed was right, why did they shun it, rather than learn about it?_ Neliel had told him that although it wasn't acceptable for the same gender to be together that way, if he ever decided to be with another man, she wouldn't look down on him or make him feel bad about it. He supposed he was grateful for that, but then again, he didn't see why she would in the first place. That vicious little circle of inquiry just kept wrapping itself around his mind.

His thoughts went back to the shorter, orange-haired man. _If he had been kissing his roommate, did that then mean that they were_..._involved_..._in that manner?_ Grimmjow hadn't meant to snoop, but he had taken off after work and halfway down the drive remembered that he'd left his saw and gloves. He supposed he could have left the items there, but by the time that thought had even crossed his mind, he was already parking and striding over to retrieve them.

That's when he'd seen Ichigo and his roommate through the kitchen window. He stroked his chin and pondered. _Was that why Ichigo had been all bent out of shape over Grimmjow seeing him naked and showering? Because he kissed other men? _

_Did he kiss other men? Or was it just his roommate?_

Grimmjow didn't know. He knew that the conversation he'd overheard through the open kitchen window _implied_ that Ichigo's roommate was the only one he kissed. Ichigo had yelled and been angry, but his roommate had remained calm and almost unmoving. _It didn't seem like he and Ichigo were on equal footing in their...relationship?_

He ran a hand through his hair and frowned. The dark-haired man didn't seem bothered by Ichigo's yelling, but it had bothered him because for some strange reason, he didn't like hearing Ichigo upset. When Ichigo had yelled at him about the shower incident, something had rolled over in his gut and punched its proverbial pillow.

A hand on his arm distracted him from his thoughts and made him turn to seek out the source. A tall, red-haired woman with crystal-clear, blue eyes stood beside him, smiling demurely as she looped an arm through his and slid onto the stool beside him. She wore a sleeveless, short, black dress, belted at the waist with a wide, bright red patent leather belt and red, come-hither pumps.

"Hey, Grimmjow. How you doing tonight?" she asked and he frowned. _She asked him that every time she saw him_.

"I'm doing fine," he stated plainly, turning his attention back to his mug.

She leaned closer, pressing her soft, ample breasts against his arm, her voice lowering, becoming throatier. "I missed you," she purred, nosing his cheek.

Grimmjow's frown deepened and he pulled away. _He didn't like when other people crowded his space_. He gave her an incredibly blank look before averting his gaze, "Why? I was here; you weren't."

The woman fake-pouted and edged even closer, breasts molesting his right bicep, "I know. I had some things to take care of, but I still missed you. Why are you always so cold?"

Grimmjow grunted and swirled his mug, making its contents slosh against the sides, "I'm not cold."

"I can warm you up," she said in a low, husky voice, completely ignoring his previous statement.

Grimmjow turned to her and gave her a slow, calculating look, meeting her sultry, blue eyes briefly before letting his own travel over her bodacious body and her large, perky boobs nearly spilling out the front of her dress. _He had urges, just like any other male and right now, those urges were nudging him, telling him that it had been quite a while since he'd gotten laid_.

He grinned crookedly, not meeting her eyes, "You wanna fuck me again?" he asked.

The woman chuckled, lowering her head before shaking it slightly in amusement, "No beating around the bush for you, huh?"

"Why would I do that?" he questioned seriously, brow creasing in confusion.

She stared at him after arching an elegant, strawberry-blonde brow, "Nevermind. You know I do."

Grimmjow nodded shortly and chugged the contents of his mug. After placing a few bills on the counter, he calmly stood, the woman rising with him. He eased her arm from his, still not comfortable with her proximity and started from the bar, the red head laughing behind him as she followed.

**XxxxxxX**

Grimmjow scowled in pleasure as the woman, Rangiku, swallowed his length and massaged his balls. _She was really good at that_. Her tongue was like a strip of molten lava, silken and scorching, wrapping around him like an embrace. He arched his back, seeking more friction, more slick heat. His hips began moving with a mind of their own and his hand dug into her long, lustrous, reddish-orange hair. He grunted, his mouth opening slightly as he matched her mouth's rhythm with his hips.

Settled on her pink, fluffy bed, in her bubblegum pink room, his mind was a million miles from where it needed to be. The pleasure was intense, but his mind wasn't on the woman performing in his lap. It was fixed on another person with similar colored hair, only this person was a man with butterscotch-brown eyes and a lulling voice. _Why his thoughts were on Ichigo, went beyond him_. Normally, he was focused on Rangiku with no problems. She had been the one to relieve him of his virginity at the age of nineteen in the back of Barragan's workshop.

She knew he was different and didn't seem to mind one bit. He knew she was rather friendly with the male population and didn't give a snap. Being inexperienced, Grimmjow had been forced to go with what he'd heard from other teenage boys boasting about sex and what he'd seen in magazines. Rangiku had made the entire ordeal much less stressful, being older and more versed in the art of fucking.

_So, why was his mind flung towards Ichigo when he was getting laid? _

Rangiku ran her hands up his chest and rubbed the pads of her thumbs across his nipples, making him stiffen, his abdomen contracting as he licked his lips, body tingling. Grimmjow glanced down and almost leaped from the bed when the visual he was greeted with was not Rangiku, but Ichigo. Smoldering brown eyes gazed up at him, while those full lips hugged and pulled on his dick.

_What the fuck?_

Gasping softly, he tugged her off his shaft and pulled her upwards. She straddled his waist, her ice-blue eyes glowing and lusty as she bent to kiss him. Grimmjow flinched and turned his head, scowling angrily. _He didn't like kissing_. _It was disgusting and he didn't understand why people did it in the first place_. The first time Rangiku had kissed him, he'd thrown up all over her. Luckily, she'd chalked it up to his strangeness and left it alone.

_Sometimes she forgot that he didn't like to tongue wrestle, though_.

"Don't kiss me," he mumbled.

Rangiku snickered and shifted their positions until she was on her hands and knees, looking over at him impatiently, "I know, I know. I'm just hoping you'll change your mind one day," she said.

He didn't realize that she was teasing him as his scowl deepened and he grunted, "I won't."

Grimmjow climbed to his knees and readied himself behind her. Suddenly, Neliel's voice penetrated his mind. _Be sure to use a condom if you're not ready for children, Grimmjow_. He made a noise and reached over the side of the bed for his discarded pants and the condom he always made sure he had in his wallet. Pulling it free, he tore open the package with his teeth and rolled it over his painfully hard erection.

Once again, he positioned himself behind Rangiku, but when he looked up, he saw Ichigo again. He shook his head in frustration. _Why the hell was he seeing the orange-haired man at a time like this?_ Ignoring it, he sunk slowly into Rangiku's warm sheath, until he was fully seated. He hissed at the sticky tightness and closed his eyes. He wasted no time starting up a hard, frenzied rhythm, only slightly aware of Rangiku's loud, panting moans. A sexual haze descended over him, blinding and numbing him to anything other than the ancient ritual of flesh sliding over flesh. He gripped her waist and panted, his breaths coming out in short huffs as he felt his release thundering towards him.

His muscles tensed, his entire body tingled like it had fallen asleep and the next thing he knew, he was shouting his orgasm, pressing into her deeply, one last time. He took a minute to catch his breath before snatching out of her quickly. He glanced down at his spent member and sighed in satisfaction. He threw a look at the clock over her bedroom door and growled low in his chest. _It was eight-thirty pm_. _He hated diverging from his routine, but sometimes even he made exceptions_.

He pulled the contraceptive off and wrapped in it in one of the tissues from the box Rangiku kept on her night stand. Positive it was wrapped completely, he tossed it in the small, metal bin and hurriedly began slipping into his clothes. He felt Rangiku's eyes on him, but he was in too much of a rush to comment on it. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same, "Why do you always leave in such a hurry? You could stay sometime, you know."

Grimmjow didn't even look up from shoving his feet into his boots as he replied, "I don't like it here; your stuff is too pink. I also have more important things to do."

Rangiku was silent for a few beats before she finally gave a hushed chuckle, "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were insulting me."

Grimmjow stood and glanced down at her before quickly looking away. "I'm not insulting you," he defended with a slight scowl.

"I know. I was only teasing you, Grimmjow," she said, her voice light and airy.

There was some more silence before Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably. "I have to go," he stated and moved to her bedroom door.

"See you next time."

That was the last thing he heard before he shut the door behind himself and left the house, then headed out to his truck.

**XXX**

"Mm, Bya… kuya."

Pants and moans filled the heavy air in the overly heated room. Two figures were on a bed, tangled together in a mess of limbs.

Despite their fight from earlier, Byakuya had approached Ichigo after dinner and pushed him against the counter, taking his mouth with a vengeance. Ichigo could do nothing but mold into him, sliding his hands down his back, knowing how much Byakuya loved it. The situation had only escalated from there, leaving the two stumbling up the stairs and shedding any clothes they could before hitting the bed.

Byakuya had mouthed his neck, sucking and biting, drawing out hissing moans from a writhing Ichigo, who could only scrape his short nails along sleekly muscled, alabaster arms.

The raven haired man wasn't usually one for sex after an argument, so this turn of events was very much surprising to Ichigo. Though he wasn't complaining by any means and immensely enjoyed when his lover became passionate, there was a nagging feeling on the edge of his conscience. He couldn't discern what it was, so instead, he lost himself to the overwhelming feeling of Byakuya nearly ripping off his shirt. Ichigo arched up into a hot mouth that trailed down his subtly toned chest, teasing and licking tanned flesh to perfection.

You could say what you wanted about Byakuya's seemingly emotionless disposition, but he was an incredible lover. While Ichigo could only compare him with a few other men, he was certain Byakuya was light years ahead of anyone else he had been with, when he was completely focused on pleasuring Ichigo.

And he was definitely demonstrating his skill right now, deftly opening Ichigo's loose fitting pants and sliding them down his thin hips with a gracefulness Ichigo could never master in all his years. Ichigo let out a long, throaty moan, when a set of lips wrapped snugly around his length. Despite never saying as much, Ichigo knew his lover thoroughly enjoyed hearing his screams. Byakuya himself wasn't very vocal during their intimacy, which if Ichigo ever admitted it, was a turn on in itself.

His hands threaded into midnight black hair, fingers curling and uncurling when waves of pleasure washed over him, caressing him into his orgasm. Ichigo heaved a deep breath, lying boneless against the bed as Byakuya sat up, smirking sensually at him with an uncharacteristically devious expression on his beautiful face.

"Finished, Ichigo?" he purred, sliding his hand along the orange haired man's sun kissed thigh, spreading it out for him.

"Nngh," was the gargled reply.

Ichigo had his eyes closed, letting out a soft groan when that mischievous hand ghosted over his slowly awakening arousal, slipping lower past his balls to circle his entrance. He felt the force of a lubricated finger pushing into him, making him open his eyes and gasp loudly. Instead of his stoic lover, there stood a blue haired man, a sexy, crooked grin twisting his lips.

Blinking away the incredibly arousing image, Ichigo could only pale and feign a moan as he thought over what had just happened. Was he really thinking about Grimmjow at a time like this? Really? The man was undeniably the sexiest thing he had ever seen, but still, picturing Grimmjow fingering him instead of his lover?

He was so fucked, literally and figuratively.

**XXX**

Monday rolled around, Ichigo dressing in a worn sweater vest and soft, brown slacks, trying to tame chaotic orange spikes into doing what he wanted for a change. Sadly, there was only so much a black comb and water could do.

He trudged out of the house in a sour mood, scowl firmly in place. Normally, he was upbeat and anxious to get to Karakura Elementary and couldn't wait to see the bubbly faces of his adorable students.

That changed when he realized Grimmjow was coming today.

Just the thought sent Ichigo into a frazzle. He couldn't understand what happened with Byakuya the other night; it was just terrifying. To think of a man he had just met in such a manner, to think of someone other than his lover… it was appalling. He felt disgusting, like he had actually done the act with Grimmjow instead of just fantasizing about it.

After his momentary lapse in sanity, he had practically shut down with Byakuya, barely finishing. Byakuya had, and retreated to his side of the bed immediately after. Ichigo frowned at the thought. He knew Byakuya never liked to cuddle, but he would have appreciated not being treated like some sort of sexual machine.

Ichigo sighed with a heavy heart, beginning the walk to the bus stop. He squinted his eyes at the viciously bright sunlight trying to assault him from the clear blue of the sky. Right as he got to the bus stop, the clunky vehicle in question chugged up the hill. Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle as he gathered the change needed to ride, knowing the bus would be heavily crowded for today's stressful ride.

Lo and behold, the only seat left was next to an older woman, mouth tight in a permanent frown. It wasn't that he had something against the elderly, no, just this particular woman. Whenever he had the displeasure to sit next to her, she always asked him at least twenty questions, digging into him like he had something to hide. Which, he really did.

The questions about his personal life were the worst.

_Do you have children? Are you married? Who do you live with? Got a girlfriend? _And so on, and so on.

Being gay in the sixties could get you killed if you said the wrong thing at the wrong time. In his youth, Ichigo had dodged the proverbial bullet several times. His hair was unfortunately the first clue. It wasn't his fault it was such an unnatural color, but thanks to it, a lot of men instantly thought something was off with him, and when they found out his name, that was it. The label was sewn in, regardless of his sexual orientation.

_Faggot_.

In high school, he was mercilessly teased, called every derogatory term for a homosexual invented, pushed into lockers and so much more. It was hell. Without his best friend, Rukia, he wouldn't have survived. They were a team, always watching each other's backs. Rukia was short and petite, beautiful. Girls were nasty to her, as well.

But they made it out alive.

Now, Ichigo was living a quiet life, trying to stay away from the city, where he knew he couldn't live with another man without retributions. People would whisper, find out, try to hurt him. Hurt _them_. Especially if Byakuya's job found out.

Ichigo was knocked out of his thoughts as the bus began its creaking motions, signaling him to take a seat. Reluctantly, he sat beside the old woman, trying to compact himself and pretend he was interested in his own thoughts. In reality, he didn't want to go back down that dark road of his past.

The ride was quiet. Ichigo could not have been more relieved when he stepped down onto the concrete, tempted to bolt down the street. He had more dignity than that, though, and instead, settled for a brisk walk. The old woman was not the least of his problems. Sometimes, men would hang around on his route to the school, intentional or not, he couldn't tell. They never said anything, but almost always had disgusted expressions on their faces.

Like they knew.

_Faggot. _

He wasn't weak; he wasn't afraid. He just…was so tired of having to fight for something everyone else had.

Luck was on his side today, and he made it to his classroom in one piece. Seeing happy, energetic children brightened his mood considerably.

He took a book out of his bag, smiling warmly at the squealing he received and sitting down on a chair. The children all scrambled over to accompany him on the soft carpeting surrounding him. Ichigo chuckled when Hiyori pushed a little red haired boy out of her way. Normally, he would have scolded her, but the boy could easily hold his own against her. His name was Jinta and he was Urahara's nephew, fiery and somewhat of a trouble maker. He listened to Ichigo, though never any of the other teachers, which Ichigo found amusing.

As he read the story, he beamed down at the attentive faces and he knew he had made the right choice in his occupation.

**XXX**

When Ichigo arrived home in the afternoon, all he wanted to do was collapse in a pile of bones on his bed. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Grimmjow already working, shirtless to boot.

Great.

He took out his keys, not bothering to approach the carpenter yet. Grimmjow, Ichigo noticed, was always very focused on his work anyway, so it was best if Ichigo let the man come to him for something first.

_I'm done entertaining; he obviously doesn't have a problem coming to get me. I'm going to sleep. _

Ichigo trekked up the stairs, stripping off his vest and white button down, taking off his reading glasses he hadn't realized he'd left on, and shucking off his slacks. The bed looked so comfortable, perfectly made and ready for his fatigued body. He pulled back the royal blue comforter, gazing longingly at the nice sheets calling his name.

Sleep claimed him almost as soon as he hit the fluffy pillows.

An hour later, Ichigo guessed, there was a soft knocking at his partially open bedroom door. He woke languidly, the veil of a deep sleep slowly lifting to allow him some form of coherency. He brought a hand to his eyes to rub tiredly and stood, not realizing he was only dressed in his underwear and a thin undershirt.

"I'm surprised you didn't just barge in," Ichigo muttered as he opened the door the rest of the way, taking in Grimmjow's still shirtless appearance.

Grimmjow didn't meet his eyes, but there was a distinct grin curling his lips. Ichigo was taken aback; he had never seen any expression on the man's face except for contemplation or surprise. "What's wrong?"

"The last time I came in you screamed like a woman and told me to get out. And you should put some clothes on, by the way."

Ichigo looked down.

With the reaction of a deer in the headlights, time seemed to ebb to a sudden stop. And then he blushed furiously, slammed the door in Grimmjow's face, and wanted to dive back under the covers in pure embarrassment. Instead, he rooted around in the closet for a pair of soft, cotton pants to throw on. God, he was such an idiot. His hideous blush was clear down his neck, burning his skin. Ichigo supposed he deserved it, though. What was he thinking!

Finally decent, Ichigo sighed and opened the door, feeling nervous and jumpy at seeing Grimmjow's leaning form in the doorway. His muscles flexed as he straightened, his gorgeous oceanic eyes pointedly looking at Ichigo's mouth.

Ichigo smiled, biting his lip. "What did you need, Grimmjow?"

"I was wondering if I could have something to drink," Grimmjow stated bluntly, turning around to walk down the stair case, Ichigo following closely behind.

"Oh, sure, sorry. I was just really tired; I hope you didn't need anything else. Are you hungry? You can stay for dinner if you'd like." Ichigo had the feeling Grimmjow wasn't really listening to him babble, but was surprised a second later when the man replied.

"What time do you eat dinner?" Grimmjow asked, walking ahead of Ichigo into the brightly decorated kitchen. He took a seat at the kitchen table, staring intently at the chairs. Ichigo frowned, taking a glass from the cabinet and filling it with ice cold water from the refrigerator.

"I should have it ready by five thirty. Byakuya works late, so he won't be here." Ichigo hoped the bitter lilt to his voice wasn't detectable. Grimmjow took the glass with a curt nod, taking a sip as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Alright, that would be fine." There was a silence in which Grimmjow looked like he was going to say something several times before he finally opened his mouth, eyes narrowed in thought. "Do you and Byakuya fuck?"

If Ichigo had been drinking something, it would have painted the pastel yellow walls. "What the hell is that supposed to mean!"

A low rumble of a chuckle escaped Grimmjow at Ichigo's flabbergasted outburst. "You both live together and I saw you two kissing the other day. I haven't seen two men live together in one house. Your roommate doesn't treat you very well."

Ichigo slammed his fist down on the counter top, a furious expression lighting up his entire face like intense lightning. "How is that any of your damned business?" Ichigo growled.

Grimmjow just shrugged. "It's not my business, it's an observation. You're a nice guy, Ichigo. I like your voice and you're always offering me things, even though I don't ask you for anything. He seems…unequal. For you. He doesn't hug you the way you hug him. His expression stayed the same when he looked at you. You had the biggest smile on your face before he kissed you. He looked like he was dead."

Ichigo wanted to be mad, to be throwing things, to blow up and tell the blue haired man off. To say that wasn't true. Instead, he mechanically sat in a chair opposite of Grimmjow, head held up by his shaking hands. Beyond anger, he was curious. He decided, for now, to ignore Grimmjow's analysis of Byakuya.

"You don't care that I have a relationship with a man? That I-I'm gay?"

A smile briefly crossed Grimmjow's features, curling his lips pleasantly. "I don't know how to answer that."

Ichigo sighed, taking a deep breath. What he was about to say wouldn't go over well, but he sucked it up and spilled it out. "Grimmjow, since you know something about me now, I want to ask you something. Why can't you look into my eyes when we talk?" Ichigo watched a hint of pink travel up the other man's strong neck, dusting across his cheeks. Grimmjow's hand clenched around the glass he was holding and Ichigo almost feared he'd break it.

"…Looking into people's eyes makes me uncomfortable. I feel threatened and get antsy and angry. I don't like what I see there," Grimmjow mumbled uneasily, abruptly standing up and pushing back his chair. The air was thick with tension as he practically bolted outside, leaving Ichigo shaken up at the table.

**XXX**

Kuchiki Byakuya stepped into the large office building with the same air of confidence he always had, but he couldn't help but feel like something was different around the large, spacious first floor. The décor left something to be desired in his opinion. The wall paper throughout the building had a soft, pink floral accent, the floors covered in an ugly green print. Paintings hung all over, some tasteful, while others were barely worthy of being called art. The first floor was open, leaving only small sitting areas and the large reception desk near the front, glass doors.

He pointedly eyed everyone bustling around to get things done, clutching his briefcase tighter to his person.

Before he could make a single step toward the elevator, a tall red haired man approached him, shit eating grin lighting up his face. Abarai. Byakuya frowned upon having his vision obstructed.

"Kuchiki-san, you hear about the new secretary Yamamoto-taicho demanded to be hired? She replaces Lisa today. Can you believe that? I doubt he really found anyone as good as Lisa, senile old man-"

"Enough," Byakuya growled, growing tired of Renji's constant chatter already.

Renji ignored his superior's warning. "Her name is Hisana and damn, is she a looker. She wears those new short skirts that all the young girls are wearing. Has everyone talking."

Byakuya was about to make a snappy reply before someone bumped into him from behind. His reflexes didn't kick in and he dropped his brief case, watching it break open and a flurry of white papers scattered in the air like a snow shower.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir! Oh my, let me got those," came a timid voice, to which the solid body that knocked into him belonged.

Turning around, Byakuya's calculating dark eyes immediately honed in on the petite woman frantically picking up his work.

She was beautiful, her long inky hair obscuring her eyes, but he could clearly see the smooth face behind her hair, gazing down to her small frame. He held out his hand, much to Renji's surprise and his own. "It's fine. What is your name?" he murmured, mesmerized when she stared up at him with shining eyes, all the documents safely retrieved.

"Thank you, sir. My name is Hisana**."**

**Dun dun dunnnnn~**

**Everyone has nicknamed Yamamoto captain. He's actually the chairman of the company. I just thought it was funny, lol.**

**Let us know what you think! Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stared down at the wooden planks in front of him, for once his mind not totally centered on the task at hand. He was still ruffled and off kilter from Ichigo's abrupt question. Although, he had to admit, the question hadn't really caught him by surprise; he'd just hoped Ichigo wouldn't actually ask it. Only one other person had actually questioned his inability to maintain eye contact and that had been Rangiku. He had given her the same answer he'd given Ichigo and thankfully, she'd left it alone, but he didn't think he was going to have the same luck with the orange-haired man.

Grimmjow picked up the end of a Redwood plank and fit it beside another plank of equal length. His mind tripped over itself as he slowly began working again, his body sluggishly going into autopilot. He couldn't settle down, though, his wired nerves making his hands shake and his heart race. After Ichigo's question, Grimmjow wasn't sure that he wanted to have dinner with him any longer.

_Would Ichigo continue to interrogate him? Ask him uncomfortable questions?_

Grimmjow sighed and squatted beside a few more pieces of wood, his hand plowing through his hair in agitation. He would keep his word since he'd already given it, but if Ichigo asked him anymore questions of the awkward nature, he would leave. Having his faults brought to light that way didn't sit well with him and it made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

Grimmjow lost some time as his mind finally focused on his work and his body relieved its nervous stress through manual labor. The next thing he knew, a soft set of footsteps through grass approached from behind, bringing him back to reality and making his back stiffen with apprehension. He was more than a little wary of Ichigo now.

Ichigo stepped around him and looked down at him, those maple brown eyes soft and considerate. Ichigo was still wearing a pair of light blue, soft cotton lounge pants and a white t-shirt. The outfit made him look cozy, like your favorite pair of jeans or slippers and Ichigo's smile was bright, but not overly done; it was just enough to make Grimmjow feel warm inside. From the quick glance Grimmjow afforded the other man, he noticed that the gentle light of curiosity was still there, but Ichigo didn't look like he planned to ask anymore questions about his behavior.

"I, uh...dinner is ready. You're still staying, right?" Ichigo asked quietly, his tone uncertain.

Grimmjow nodded and raised himself to his full height, not noticing the look of appreciation Ichigo gave him. "Yes. I told you I would," he answered.

Ichigo nodded and moved around him, leading the way to the porch and front door. Grimmjow dusted his hands on the front of his jeans briefly and went for the bed of his truck, where he'd stashed his gray t-shirt. He snagged it and pulled it over his head before following Ichigo into the house.

_He didn't think eating at Ichigo's dinner table without a shirt was good manners and Neliel would __scold him if he didn't mind his manners_.

They were headed for the kitchen, but Grimmjow detoured into the small half-bath adjacent to the kitchen. He relieved himself and washed his hands before making his way into the other room, where Ichigo set a couple of plates onto the table. Grimmjow eyed the plates hungrily, his stomach growling noisily at the sight of the cold soba noodles and small bowls of mentsuyu (dipping sauce) that Ichigo had just retrieved from the counter and set next to the plates.

Grimmjow lowered himself into a seat and waited for Ichigo to do the same before picking up the set of wooden, disposable chopsticks next to his plate and snapping them apart. He and Ichigo both muttered, "Itadakimasu," at the same time, Grimmjow peering up from his plate to mistakenly lock gazes with the other man. His heart skipped a beat at the same time as his jaw clenched from discomfort. He hurriedly pulled his eyes away and dug into the noodles and sauce, humming absently at the delicious taste.

He chewed and swallowed carefully before saying, "This is really good." His eyes never left his food.

Grimmjow could hear Ichigo's grin, so he chanced a peek at the orange-haired man. Ichigo had his eyes on his food as he dipped a cluster of noodles into the mentsuyu, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks," he said quietly, deep voice soothing and extremely comfortable. For the next few moments, they ate in silence, Grimmjow thoroughly enjoying the meal, until Ichigo cleared his throat. "Grimmjow, do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

Grimmjow paused, his chopsticks poised over the mentsuyu as he contemplated the question. At first, he'd been wary, his muscles bunched with suspicion at Ichigo's tone, but Grimmjow deemed the question harmless. "No," he answered.

Silence...for about two seconds.

Grimmjow had just managed to dip his noodles and bring them to his mouth, when Ichigo spoke again. "Were you born here? I mean, well, you don't really look Japanese," he ended with a mumble, his eyes locking onto the tabletop as he pushed his noodles around his plate with his chopsticks.

Grimmjow shrugged. "I was born here, but I don't know if I'm Japanese or not. I was adopted," he stated frankly, bringing another cluster of dipped noodles to his mouth.

He shot a glance at Ichigo and immediately looked away when he realized Ichigo was staring at him, stunned. "Y-you were adopted? I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," he stuttered, but Grimmjow didn't understand why. _He didn't think there was anything wrong with the question_.

"It's fine."

There was some more silence before Ichigo was again speaking. Grimmjow really didn't mind, as long as his questions remained impersonal. "Grimmjow, how old are you?"

Grimmjow blinked, surprised at the random inquiry. "Twenty-eight," he answered. His interest suddenly peaked, he glanced into Ichigo's eyes briefly before asking, "How old are you?"

Ichigo grinned; Grimmjow could see it from his peripheral. "I'm twenty-four. You uh, you wear your age well."

Grimmjow smirked, proud that he no longer resembled the awkward male from his teen years. He nodded and continued to eat hungrily, absently packing away the information of Ichigo's age into his memory bank. They continued to eat in silence, but Grimmjow could practically smell Ichigo stewing with curiosity. He glanced up at the other man and grinned at the far away expression he wore. Ichigo had his gaze locked on the small window over the sink, his full mouth hanging slightly open and velvety-brown eyes glazed.

Grimmjow took the time to observe Ichigo without his knowledge, taking in the bright orange hair that fell across his brow and almost hid those entrancing eyes and layered down the back of his neck. Ichigo had freckles dusted over his cheeks and the bridge of his straight nose. His orange brows were furrowed a bit, but perfectly feathered and his cheeks were a bit pink.

_Was he blushing?_

Grimmjow tilted his head to the side, completely lost to his musings and unaware that Ichigo's focus had turned to him. Ichigo was an intriguing person and Grimmjow wanted to know more about him. _Such as, why was he always so easily flustered around him? Why did he blush around Grimmjow all the time? Why was he so nice to someone he barely knew? Why was he with a man? Did it cause problems for him?_

Grimmjow rubbed his chin absently, eyes locked on Ichigo's interesting mouth. "Ichigo," he started, but was interrupted by the front door opening and closing.

He shook his head some to come back to the here and now and shot Ichigo a brief look. Ichigo's eyes were wide with shock as he stared at the kitchen door, looking as if he expected the big bad wolf himself to tromp through it. Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder and waited as he listened to the slow footsteps of who could only be Ichigo's roommate.

The tall, dark-haired man appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, pausing as he seemed to stare a hole through Grimmjow. He was wearing black slacks with a pale green dress shirt and black tie. His face was blank, dead, empty and Grimmjow found himself – not for the first time – wondering what Ichigo liked about him. _Was the man different around Ichigo?_

_Had to be_.

Ichigo jumped from his seat, face flushed and hands moving about nervously. "B-Byakuya, you're home early!" he observed and the other man arched an elegant dark eyebrow as his gaze turned to the orange-haired man. Ichigo rounded the table and pulled out the wooden chair at the head of the small dining table. "I would've fixed your food, too!" he continued.

Grimmjow watched Ichigo with amusement, clueless as to why the guy was so rattled. Ichigo was behaving like a skittish little bird. _Was he afraid of his roommate or something? Or was Ichigo like him and didn't appreciate an unexpected change in routine?_ Grimmjow shrugged and continued to watch Ichigo flit around his roommate, fussing like a hen the entire time.

Finally, Byakuya spoke. "Ichigo, calm yourself. I'm going to change clothes, then I will eat," he stated with much authority, his deep voice silencing Ichigo's protests.

Byakuya left the kitchen, never having taken a seat to begin with, despite Ichigo's rigorous attempts to get the man to join them. Grimmjow watched the stoic man disappear and Ichigo immediately deflated as soon as he was gone, falling back into his seat wearily and rubbing his forehead as if to massage away an oncoming headache.

Grimmjow frowned. _He didn't like seeing Ichigo upset and Ichigo definitely appeared upset_. Clearing his throat, he rested his elbows on the table and his hands in front of his face. "Ichigo, why do you fuck him, when he only treats you coldly?" he asked seriously, making Ichigo whip his head up and lock eyes with him.

Grimmjow looked away, but he could still feel the other man's eyes on him like a crawling insect. "What did you just say to me?" Ichigo asked quietly.

Grimmjow's frown deepened. "I said-"

"_I fucking heard what you said_," Ichigo snarled, making Grimmjow glance at him uncertainly.

_He was angry, but why?_

"You're upset. Why?" Grimmjow asked, peering at Ichigo from the corner of his eye.

Ichigo stood from the table, rounded it and stood right beside him, aura thick with anger and tension. Suddenly, Ichigo reached out, gripped Grimmjow's chin and turned him to face him, blazing brown eyes shimmering dangerously. Grimmjow felt discomfort writhe in his gut and his hackles jump up dramatically as Ichigo forced eye contact on him.

"That's none of your fucking business," Ichigo said softly, eyes intimidating and dark. "Ask me something like that again and I'll make it _my_ personal business to kick your ass. Understand?"

Grimmjow, already uncomfortable with Ichigo's proximity and threatening demeanor, slowly stood, knocking away the shorter man's hand as he averted his gaze. He was pissed and Ichigo needed to realize that. He grabbed Ichigo's shoulders and shoved him against the refrigerator, knocking magnets and other paraphernalia to the floor.

His eyes locked to the side, he spoke to the floor. "_Don't touch my fucking face_," he growled, body starting to shake with the extreme amount of sheer ferociousness coursing through his system. "_Don't_._ Touch_._ Me_. _And_._ Don't_._ Fucking_. _Threaten_._ Me_."

Ichigo made a small noise and Grimmjow shot him a brief glare before letting his shoulders go. He dropped his hands to his sides, unsure of what to do with himself. _Should he leave? The situation seemed to call for it, but he hadn't done anything wrong. Ichigo had no right touching his face like that. He had no right threatening him and making him feel that way, making him feel so dangerously uncomfortable_.

Before he could come to a decision, though, Ichigo blew out a tired sigh. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Grimmjow. I shouldn't have done that, but...but you...you shouldn't ask me things like that. I wasn't prepared for it and it brought up really bad memories," he mumbled, running a hand through that tangerine hair and lowering his sienna eyes to the floor remorsefully.

Grimmjow peeked at him and decided he was telling the truth; he wasn't simply making excuses as most people were wont to do. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he gazed out the kitchen door and shrugged. "I didn't mean to upset you," he stated. Grimmjow didn't think anything else needed to be said and he was still feeling angry and awkward towards the other man, so he decided now was a good time to leave. "Dinner was good."

With that, he turned and left the kitchen, heading out towards his truck and freedom. Perhaps even a bit of peace and solitude.

**XXX **

Byakuya frowned as he pulled up to the small white house, brows drawing together in slight irritation. After working nonstop on a proposal for Yamamoto, Byakuya was not in the mood for company, and the sight of a truck in the drive way gave Byakuya all the information he needed to correctly assume that is what he had.

Curse Ichigo and his overly friendly disposition. He turned off the ignition and grabbed his briefcase, stiffly walking to the porch until he reached the side door. He sighed as he pressed his palm against the door knob, disappointed to find that the door was indeed unlocked. He had told Ichigo _countless_ times, no matter what, to keep it locked.

You never knew when someone would try to break in, especially given their living arrangements. Despite what Ichigo believed, they were not safe there. Byakuya had tried to instill some of his concern into Ichigo, but the man was more than a little naïve, and even dense to a certain extent.

He steeled himself before walking inside his home, back straight and shoulders set, stepping in to appraise the sight he was greeted with. He could hear a different, deep voice and frowned. He gazed at Ichigo's shocked, almost terrified face and a muscular man with obnoxious blue hair sitting at his table.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes as he approached, eyeing Ichigo's nervous smile. His line of vision then turned to the other man sitting across from Ichigo, his lips quirked in something that could not be quite described as a smile, but neither was it a frown. At his overbearing presence, Ichigo's deep brown eyes snapped to him, taking in his blank expression.

"B-Byakuya, you're home early!" Ichigo murmured anxiously, standing up and grabbing empty plates. "I would've fixed your food, too!"

Byakuya ignored him for a few minutes, watching the stranger watch his lover with amusement and something else Byakuya wasn't sure he liked. Ichigo bustled around skittishly, squawking out more unnecessary words and acting almost embarrassingly awkward. The dark haired man sighed to himself at the behavior, perturbed.

"Ichigo, calm yourself. I'm going to change clothes, then I will eat," Byakuya said heading toward the staircase, his chest constricting painfully. He didn't like Ichigo's disposition. He was too jumpy. Something wasn't right.

But then, Byakuya shook his head. He was being far too ridiculous and irrational. They had made up from the argument the other day, quite thoroughly. He resolved to wash up and speak with the blue haired man, whom he assumed was the carpenter he'd hired. The man could not meet his eyes. That was surely an admission of dishonor…

Byakuya growled heatedly at his reflection in their bathroom mirror, an emotion he usually liked to keep in check scratching up his chest.

Such emotion was entirely irrational. He stepped back and gracefully removed his clothes, folding them and leaving them on the bed while he changed into slightly more casual attire. He liked to look professional at all times, and this was a time for him to exude confidence. He glanced at the mirror, pleased with his simple, but elegant white button up and pressed, black slacks.

Just as he was about to proceed back down the stairs, he heard something akin to a bang, as if a chair had been knocked over. Byakuya hurried his pace, meeting no one but Ichigo in the room. The kindergarten teacher had a decidedly defeated expression, calling out to Byakuya's heart strings.

"He left?"

Ichigo nodded.

"I heard a noise. What happened?"

It was like he snapped Ichigo out of a trance, those deep brown eyes filled with confusion turning on him, orange head shaking in the negative. "Nothing. He had to leave, that's all. Come and sit down. I made your favorite." Ichigo's voice sounded exhausted. Byakuya observed his slumped shoulders and bitten lips, a quality Ichigo only exhibited when he was nervous or heated.

"Did he say anything about us to offend you?"

Ichigo made a shocked noise in the back of his throat, a clear sign of affirmation. "N-no! Why would you think that?"

The glare Byakuya sent him could have frightened the burliest of men. Ichigo was, sadly, used to it by now. "You would not be nearly as frazzled if 'nothing' happened. I know what I heard and I know how you usually act. If he is doing or saying something to hurt you, I'll have him fired. It's not a problem; I do not like seeing you in turmoil."

A brilliant blush stained Ichigo's tanned cheeks, lighting up his eyes. Ichigo smiled tenderly, walking over to Byakuya and putting his arms around his tapered waist. "Thank you," Ichigo whispered into his collarbone, "it's good to know you care sometimes, but really, he's harmless."

Byakuya bristled at Ichigo's last utterance, brows creasing in contemplation.

Good to know he cared?

Was Ichigo's perception of him really that skewed? Did he not know Byakuya loved him?

Apparently not. Byakuya left that alone, not wishing to bring on a fresh argument. Instead he reached up and cupped the orange haired man's face, bringing their lips together. His next few words ghosted across Ichigo's mouth, caressing his skin.

"I love you."

Byakuya just wished he felt something when he said it.

As they kissed, his thoughts kept twisting and turning, the image of his new secretary was flitting across his mind, her soft expression the only thing registering, rather than Ichigo's erotic face.

**XXX**

All the children were wired and excited, squealing and chattering loudly with each other, while Ichigo set up a table at the front of the classroom. He draped a red table cloth over the top and sat a chair behind it. The classroom's chalkboard sat behind the table as well, with large kanji describing the day's events.

Ichigo sighed, pushing his reading glasses up higher, lest they fall off his nose. He really needed new ones. Byakuya was always saying he never asked for anything, and this was a practical use. He supposed he would ask the man, though he was loathe to do so. He hated Byakuya taking care of him… like some wife. He shuddered at the mere suggestion his mind conjured. He was certainly no woman and didn't plan on becoming one anytime soon.

A loud, feminine shriek interrupted his thoughts quite easily as it cut through the air. Ichigo blinked and looked down to where the voice came from. He shouldn't have been surprised. It was Hiyori, her big eyes trained to the open door where a blond man, immaculately dressed, was in the process of coming through.

"Hello, Shinji, you're early," Ichigo laughed when Hiyori threw her little body into the taller man's arms, forcing Shinji to pick her up before she fell.

The blond smiled, his grin stretching wide across his face. "Eh, thought I'd keep you company while you waited on the other parents."

Ichigo smiled but shook his head, going around to his own small desk to pull out a tray. He had made a few finger foods for everyone, since he knew it would be appreciated by the children, and hopefully their parents.

The children began talking again, growing tired of the adult conversation and more interested in toys and the fact that today one of their parents would come, teaching the children about their professions. Ichigo had thought it would be fun and a good opportunity to have the kids learn.

And he had an ulterior motive.

He wanted to speak to Ishida Uryu, Karakura Hospital's best surgeon. The man despised him on the few times they had met, and for this, Ichigo had no idea why. But today, he was going to get Ishida to talk to him and tell him about Grimmjow's odd behavior. He figured Ishida was a walking library of medical jargon, so rather than going to a library, he orchestrated the event in hopes of cornering the other man.

Ichigo offered Shinji a sandwich, chuckling when one long, skinny arm shot out and grabbed one, stuffing his face and getting crumbs on the small girl in his care. Hiyori, in turn, growled menacingly, and punched her brother in his face. Shinji howled, tears running like rivers from his eyes as he held his nose. Everyone started laughing at the spectacle. Ichigo had to let out a few chuckles. He was used to Shinji's immature behavior.

Another few minutes trickled by as Ichigo flitted around the room, trying to make sure everything looked nice. He had painstakingly cleaned that morning, coming in an extra hour early just to wipe all the furniture down and secure more chairs for the children's parents. Shinji helped set up a few rows of little chairs for the children and bigger ones to the side for the parents.

Ichigo was finishing up setting out the food, when Ishida waltzed in, his crisp, white coat swishing behind him, his eyes sharp and calculating as he eyed all the faces. There was a woman next to him, her short, black hair in her eyes as she adjusted her pencil skirt. Ichigo grinned, walking over to greet them. "Hey Ishida, Tatsuki. You're just in time!"

"Kurosaki," Ishida offered stiffly in greeting, sniffing and looking away.

"Mommy!"

A tiny girl with inky black hair ran to the woman, clutching onto her shapely legs with thin arms. Tatsuki chuckled and bent down to pick her up, nuzzling her pale cheek affectionately. "Ururu, I missed you. Are you having fun with Kurosaki-sensei?" Ururu nodded, but supplied nothing further, burying her head into her mother's chest.

Ichigo chuckled, his eyes trained on Ishida stepping over to a chair and sitting down. He followed the man, standing in front of Ishida with a determined expression.

"What, Kurosaki?" Ishida questioned an irritated crease furrowing his brow.

"Look, Ishida. I know you don't like me for some reason, but after class is over, could I please have a few seconds of your time? I know you're busy, but it's important." Ichigo tried to keep his voice down and his tone light, so as not to alert Ishida's wife. Ishida eyed him analytically, making Ichigo feel like he was on an examining table.

Finally Ishida sighed, bringing a hand up to push stray strands of midnight black hair out of his tired face. "Alright, Kurosaki. Five minutes." Ichigo lit up, tempted to hug the other man, but wasn't that stupid. Ishida would go ballistic. Ichigo wasn't sure what drew Tatsuki – who was beautiful and headstrong – to the cold surgeon. And then, Ichigo thought about his own situation with Byakuya and figured he would leave that train of thought well enough alone.

He tried to greet all the new faces that began popping up, ecstatic with the turn out. Every child had at least one parent, except for a red haired boy off to the side of the door frame, sulking and looking down at the floor. Ichigo noticed and approached him, squatting down to pat Jinta's vivid, red hair. There were tear stains on the boy's pale, freckled skin and it tore at Ichigo's bleeding heart. "Don't feel bad Jinta, I'm sure –"

"Kurosaaaaaki-san!"

Ichigo stood, eyes widening as Urahara flounced in, a wide smile splitting his face. Ichigo inwardly sighed in relief, as Urahara swept a protesting Jinta in his arms, laughing at the struggle that ensued. Ichigo could not have been more thankful of his eccentric boss. He hated seeing anyone upset, let alone a child. Now that everyone was there, Ichigo could begin having the parents set up and talk about their professions.

He cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attentive gaze. "Thank you all for coming. I hope you enjoy this time with your children. Who would like to start?" Ichigo inquired softly.

His honey brown eyes scanned the group of adults, smiling when Tatsuki raised her hand, a smirk curling her pale lips. Ichigo nodded and she stood up, setting Ururu on Ishida's lap. To Ichigo's surprise, the man's arm twisted around the small girl's waist, hugging her back against his chest. Ichigo retreated to his desk, sitting down and thinking to himself while Tatsuki explained in simple terms about her career as a physicist.

He was itching to understand more about the surly carpenter ever since Grimmjow had eaten dinner at his home. The reaction that the blue haired man had given when Ichigo asked why he couldn't hold eye contact was giving him a bad case of curiosity.

Time seemed to fly by as each parent stood to teach the children the basics about their careers. Some even brought treats to entice the kids. Ichigo enjoyed a pink frosted cup cake from Inoue, a baker just down the street from Byakuya's work.

She was an amazing pastry chef, though she just owned a small establishment. However, the same could not be said for her cooking. Ichigo had tasted her food and did not recommend it. How the woman could be a genius at pastries and fail so badly at making a simple dinner, Ichigo didn't know. He knew this, because they had gone to the same high school and she had made him lunch once. The worst decision he had ever made was to eat it. Ichigo had been sick for days and just thinking back on that memory had him feeling queasy.

Inoue smiled at him as she took her seat beside her husband, Ulquiorra Schiffer, and picked up their little girl, Lilynette, cuddling her close to her chest. Ichigo stood, grinning widely at the group of sleepy children and tired adults. "Well, I'd like to thank everyone for their time. I hope everyone had a good time and enjoyed this. Have a nice night!"

Ichigo watched as all the bodies slowly began to dissipate from the room, until it was just he and Ishida, Tatsuki having already left with Ururu, since Ishida had to get to the hospital.

Ishida was standing in the middle of the classroom, looking irritated and checking his wrist watch. His sharp eyes bored into Ichigo's own with a vengeance. "Alright, Kurosaki. Five minutes starting now."

With a loud sigh, Ichigo walked over to Ishida and glowered. "You could at least act like you care."

"Excuse my impatience, I'm all ears," Ishida replied sarcastically. He gave Ichigo a fierce glare, to which Ichigo took in stride. He was kind of used to such treatment.

"I want to talk to you about this guy I know. He's kind of strange, so I figured…" Ichigo grinned when Ishida's expression gradually became darker.

"Finish that sentence and I'm gone, Kurosaki."

Chuckling quietly, Ichigo continued, "Anyway, he's a little on the strange side. I thought maybe if I told you about him, you could decide if he has something I'm not aware of?"

Ishida nodded curtly. "Give me his characteristics."

Ichigo leaned back against a brightly colored wall, sucking on his bottom lip thoughtfully and trying to figure out how to convey Grimmjow's behavior. "Well, he's really, _really_ blunt, to the point where I'm not sure it's entirely normal. He'll just tell me things and expect me not to get mad, like what he said wasn't supposed to be offensive. And then he can never look into my eyes. He always stares at my mouth, or just to the side of my ear. His emotions are sometimes wild, like he can't control the spectrum where there's a middle ground."

Ishida nodded for him to continue. Ichigo sighed to himself, anxiety bubbling up in the pit of his stomach. He hoped Ishida knew what he was talking about, and wouldn't think he was being ridiculous. "He talks a lot sometimes, but only about the things he cares about. Other than that, he doesn't really talk enough. It makes me feel uncomfortable. Is what I'm saying ringing any bells, Ishida?"

The dark haired man looked like he was in contemplation before answering. "To me, it seems he might be mildly autistic. I haven't researched enough about autism, but I did come across a form of it that sounds somewhat familiar and correlates to what you're telling me. Do you know what Asperger's Syndrome is, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo shook his head, feeling like he was being talked down to. He hated that feeling, like Ishida was acting as if he was holier than thou. It really pissed Ichigo off. He clenched his fist and bit his tongue, only because he needed the snobby surgeon to continue his explanation to hopefully better understand Grimmjow and know how to deal with him.

A pale hand came up to push up Ishida's slowly falling glasses, the dark haired surgeon looking grave. "It is not widely known, so I knew you wouldn't. Relatively new, I'd say. And someone like _you_ wouldn't know, anyway."

Ishida just _loved_ getting a good jab in.

"Please get on with it, Ishida. I thought you said I had five minutes? Three of those are gone, and you haven't told me what it is yet."

A vein in Ichigo's forehead was positively throbbing, and he wanted more than anything to punch the other man in his snobby, too-straight nose. But he refrained, his patience dangling by a very thin string that was just begging to snap.

"Are you dense? I said it sounds like Asperger's. Pay attention or don't waste my time."

That was so it. The last straw.

"Alright then, Ishida. Thanks for your time, I get it now. You can leave," Ichigo hissed, venom lacing his words. He walked over to the wooden, white door and pushed it wide open, ushering Ishida out briskly.

"I appreciate it."

Ishida sneered as he left, rolling his midnight blue eyes. "I'm sure you do, Kurosaki." Ichigo slammed the door shut after he walked past and out, reveling in the startled, feminine shriek he heard. He snickered to himself as the dark cloud over his head finally abandoned him, but now, his mind was running a race to keep up with this new information. Now that he had a name to put to Grimmjow's behavior, he felt a lot better.

He hated the bitter, tense, and awkward way they had parted the other day. He hadn't meant to snap and get like that. He definitely could have handled the situation better and resolved to never lose his cool again around the volatile man. He could still feel the heat of Grimmjow's dangerous voice in his head, messing with his mind and subconscious.

"_Don't touch my fucking face_. _Don't_. _Touch_. _Me_. _And_. _Don't_. _Fucking_. _Threaten_. _Me_."

Ichigo shivered, feeling as if Grimmjow was there, taunting him and making him feel on edge. Now, though, it was different. Ichigo's observations had led to a discovery, and maybe he could dig up some more information when he had time, perhaps from a different source. He would never approach Ishida Uryu again.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow walked onto the porch of the small, green house he'd grown up in and pulled his key ring from his jeans pocket, shuffling them with a metallic jingling before finding the one he needed and inserting it into the lock. He had just stepped inside and kicked off his boots when the sea-green-haired woman appeared in the tiny foyer, a bright smile lighting up her face. Grimmjow involuntarily smiled back at the sight of that warm grin that always made him feel fuzzy inside.

"Hi, Sweetie!" she greeted, bounding over to him with much more energy than a woman her age usually possessed. Grimmjow grunted a greeting in return and allowed himself to be enfolded in the shorter woman's strong embrace, the top of her head just reaching his shoulder. She stepped back and put her hands on his shoulders, carefully assessing him with those eyes that he swore could see through anything and knew the answers to everything. "How have you been?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, exasperated. _They had just spoken on the phone a few days ago and she still asked him how he was_. "I'm fine. You really don't have to ask me that every time you see me or speak to me."

Neliel gave a childish giggle and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "It's a habit, Honey. I thought you'd be used to it by now," she stated flippantly and turned, headed back to the kitchen, where the smell of spaghetti sauce filled his nose and made his stomach growl.

Grimmjow grunted again and followed behind his mother, taking in the neat, pale blue house dress and stark white apron she wore. Her hair was pulled back in a tight chignon and she'd just donned a pair of black oven mitts to drain the noodles from the large pasta pot, into the strainer in the sink. Grimmjow sat at the kitchen table he'd made at the age of sixteen and studied the surroundings that never seemed to change, no matter how much time passed.

Neliel still kept a glass dish containing fruit on the kitchen table, she still used the brightly colored place mats and the pale yellow refrigerator still hummed like an engine. The walls were still beige and the curtain over the window was still the same yellow and green design he'd remembered being there for as long as he'd lived there. The hardwood floor was still shiny and looked brand new because he made sure to keep it fresh in order for it to last as long as Neliel did.

Suddenly, the woman turned away from the sink, having drained the noodles and turned off the slowly simmering sauce. She approached the table and studied him a bit more, her wheat gray eyes capturing his gently, but still making him completely uncomfortable. _This hadn't happened since she'd found out he wasn't a virgin anymore_.

She stood behind the wooden chair directly across from him, her dainty hands braced against the back of it. "Grimmjow, is everything OK?" she asked, her normally childish voice lower and concerned. "You seem a bit upset."

Grimmjow squirmed and fidgeted in his seat, his fingernails scraping at the tabletop as he bit his bottom lip. _She could always do that_. _It didn't matter how much he tried to conceal something, she always knew when he wasn't himself_. Not knowing how to answer her, he remained silent.

"Is it your job?" she continued.

Grimmjow whipped his head up and met her eyes briefly, wondering if she had figured out exactly why he was upset and not himself. Realizing that she was only guessing, he allowed his shoulders to relax, but his heart was still racing and sweat had formed underneath his arms. He didn't want Neliel to know that he'd almost relapsed and had a violent episode the way he sometimes had when he was younger. _He'd gotten a lot better at controlling himself as he aged, but there would still be times when he felt like he was losing his cool_.

"Sweetheart, you're scaring me. Tell me what's wrong," she coaxed, her big eyes sparkling with worry and her green brows furrowed.

Neliel took a seat in the chair she'd been standing behind and waited for him to speak, folding her arms on top of the table. Grimmjow scrunched his nose and sighed. "I almost hurt someone," he muttered.

He refused to look up for fear of seeing the look of disapproval he was sure his mother was wearing at hearing his confession. There was a long and intense silence that made his stomach roil, until Neliel laid a hand over his on top of the table, making him look up at her through his bright blue bangs.

"But you _didn't_ hurt anyone, right?" she questioned gently.

Grimmjow shook his head. "No. I was worried I would, though," he continued to explain. "H-he made me look him in the eye by force and I...I..."

Neliel was out of her seat and beside him before he could blink. He hadn't even realized his face was flushed, or that he was stuttering and dangerously close to drawing in on himself. His mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders soothingly and ran a hand through his hair to comfort him. _That always managed to calm him down when he was angry or just plain upset_. She spoke softly and kissed his temple, making his breathing slow and regulate.

After he calmed down, Neliel stood and went back to the stove as if nothing had even happened and he was grateful for it. _He hated showing weakness, even to his mother_. Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair and over his face, taking several deep breaths before he started speaking.

"His name is Ichigo," he offered as if Neliel had specifically asked him for it. "He's friendly and he has a nice voice. His hair is bright orange and he has eyes like your oatmeal raisin cookies. He talks a lot and he sleeps with his roommate. His roommate is the one who hired me to add a wrap-around segment to their porch. Ichigo shouldn't be with him; he's not right for him," he rambled, unaware of the random nature of his statements.

Neliel had a plate in her hand as she came back to the table, her face neutral. She set the spaghetti and meatball filled plate in front of Grimmjow and sat across from him again, sliding a set of wooden chopsticks in his direction. He snatched them up, broke them apart and after hurriedly muttering "Itadakimasu", he dug in. _He hadn't had his mother's spaghetti and meatballs in so long_.

He'd soon forgotten his line of conversation, but Neliel helped him back on track as she cleared her throat and twirled an extra chopstick between her elegant fingers. "So, this Ichigo is a homosexual?" she asked softly.

Grimmjow blinked out of his hunger stupor and after running the question through his mind again, he nodded. "Yeah."

"And why don't you think his roommate is right for him?"

Grimmjow paused his eating and glanced up at the ceiling before shrugging. "His roommate isn't warm like Ichigo. Ichigo reminds me of you and his roommate doesn't."

Grimmjow didn't notice how Neliel's eyes had widened for a brief moment, but he did hear her quiet laughter and it made him look up at her, his mouth full of noodles and tomato sauce and his brow creased in a scowl. "I take it you like this Ichigo person. Is he the one that made you...angry?" she asked.

Grimmjow swallowed the food and leaned back in his seat, still upset over the situation. "Yeah," he grunted.

He didn't like having Ichigo upset with him and being upset with Ichigo seemed to feel even worse. Grimmjow was pretty sure he liked the guy. He liked Ichigo's voice, he liked his hair, he liked his nonsensical rambling, he liked his body and he liked the way he smiled. He liked the way Ichigo's eyes were so brown, they almost resembled syrup and he liked the way Ichigo smelled. The like he had for Ichigo was similar in nature to the like Grimmjow had for his mother: a comfortable, warm feeling.

_Having Ichigo angry with him and vice versa, complicated things_.

"Then, who do you think would fit with Ichigo more?" Neliel inquired caustically, a devilish gleam in her wheat-gray eyes.

Grimmjow frowned and shrugged. _He had no idea how to answer that, but he did know one thing_. "Not his roommate."

**Again, tell us what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

**Two Months Later**

Byakuya inhaled deeply as Hisana leaned over his shoulder to check a document on the large, mahogany desk in his office. She smelled of jasmine and roses, floral and very feminine, quite unlike the earthy masculinity he was used to with Ichigo. Her dark hair brushed across her shoulders and hugged the curve of her elegantly slender, pale neck, dipping lightly into the collar of her white, silk blouse. She wore a black, knee-length, pencil skirt and low, black heels to accentuate the blouse and her big, deep violet eyes seemed to bring out the darkness of the skirt and sensible shoes. They were focused on the typed document, her demeanor oblivious to his observance.

"Kuchi-"

"Byakuya, Hisana. We are alone; there is no need of such formality," he hurriedly corrected, grinning faintly at her becoming blush.

"Byakuya," she whispered, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her dainty, yet pouty mouth.

Byakuya nodded and leaned back in the black, leather office chair, eyes focused on the smaller woman standing over him. She was so petite and fragile-looking, he was afraid he would break her whenever he touched her. He never went beyond gentle contact with her hands, arms and shoulders, aware that, even though he had fallen for her, he was still in a relationship with someone else.

_A man_.

_Ichigo_.

A miniscule frown pulled at his dark brows as he thought of his lover. He would never deny that he loved Ichigo, but what he felt for the orange-haired man had been overwhelmed by his sudden desire to be with Hisana. She was everything that Ichigo was not. She was soft and feminine with a quiet personality, whereas Ichigo was firm, masculine and unable to bite his tongue. Hisana was submissive and demure, whereas Ichigo was anything but. Of course, Ichigo allowed Byakuya to be in control, but therein lay the issue. Ichigo allowed. Byakuya was certain it was done willfully and more than likely with a very conscious effort, yet with Hisana, it was natural.

He hated that he was comparing the two, but as he'd spent more time around the almost timid, dark-haired woman, he found himself yearning for something he never would have imagined. A woman and all that being with one entailed. Ichigo was, without a doubt, a caterer, making sure Byakuya's every need and wish was met, but it wasn't the same.

Byakuya almost sighed, frustrated with himself. He had loved Ichigo; he still did. However, what he felt for Hisana was bigger than what he felt for his current lover and he refused to deny himself his happiness, only to force himself through a relationship he no longer wanted. Two months of constant interaction with his dark-haired secretary and he was smitten like a teenager with his first crush.

"Byaku-ya," Hisana hesitantly started, "is there something wrong?" she asked, violet eyes round and wide with concern.

Byakuya gave her his attention and felt something further slide across his heart as he took in her appearance. Everything about Hisana made him yearn and long to be by her side for the rest of his life. "No, I was merely thinking," he answered quietly.

As if sensing he wasn't being entirely truthful with her, she tilted her head to the side and arched a slim brow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Quite."

Hisana nodded and turned her gaze back to the document on the desktop. Byakuya wanted to lean his head back against the leather chair he was seated in and sigh, very uncharacteristic behavior for himself. What made his predicament so difficult and utterly frustrating was that Hisana felt the same for him. One evening, working together late in the office and after weeks of electric glances and touches, _she_ had come to _him_, confessing her feelings. He had been caught off guard and completely stunned that what had been occurring between them hadn't been his imagination, or just merely want from his end.

In a rush of relief, he had reciprocated and confessed of his own feelings for her, making her blush and sputter shyly, not having expected anything in return. He had been sorely tempted to kiss her then, but had refrained, if only because of Ichigo. His orange-haired lover deserved far more than being cheated on. He deserved to be told directly of Byakuya's feelings for Hisana.

Nonetheless, Byakuya hadn't been able to find it in himself to break the other man's heart, which he knew would occur. Ichigo had pursued him vigorously since his youth and Byakuya knew that he was the only one Ichigo had ever given his heart to. It would hurt and even though Byakuya wished to be with another, he also didn't wish to hurt Ichigo.

_He was being naïve_.

He knew for a fact that their relationship had to come to an end. Although he still cared for Ichigo, he didn't feel that love that he once had and prolonging things would only complicate matters in the long run. _Yet, he'd still allowed himself to drag his feet_. Ichigo had to be suspicious that things were no longer the same between them, not to mention, the orange-haired man already felt that Byakuya was cold and unfeeling towards him at times.

Byakuya let an inaudible sigh rush past his parted lips as he briefly closed his eyes. Ichigo would probably hate him, call him names and curse him, especially when he told the other man to whom his feelings had been refocused. Ichigo would accuse him of finally conceding to his family's wishes – his family would be overjoyed, for sure – but that was hardly the reason.

_Then, there was Rukia to deal with, she being Ichigo's best friend_.

Steepling his fingers before his face as he rested his elbows on the arms of the desk chair, Byakuya stared at the closed office door, distant and dreading the upcoming events. Breaking up with Ichigo had become imperative, not only for his happiness, but to give the younger man fair chance of finding someone else to be with. More importantly, however, because he'd asked Hisana to move in with him. It was clear that they loved each other and living together was simply the logical next step.

Ichigo would disagree and see it as Byakuya being cruel and callous, his usual cold self. _It wasn't true, but there was no getting around the upcoming confrontation_. Byakuya admitted to himself that he certainly could have gone about things differently, perhaps given Ichigo more time to adjust to the situation, but his reluctance to hurt Ichigo had kept him from doing so.

_In short, he'd made an unwise decision and now had to deal with the consequences_.

Byakuya shook himself from his deep train of thought and glanced up at his current love, who, as if feeling his eyes on her, turned to face him with a warm smile. She absently brushed a lock of raven-colored hair behind her right ear, eyes softening the longer they locked with his. Inwardly sighing and steeling his nerves, Byakuya returned the smile.

_He would tell Ichigo tomorrow morning_.

**XxxxxxX**

The sun filtering through the blinds in the bedroom, caused Byakuya's eyes to flutter open. He lifted his head from his pillow and blinked away the remnants of an uneasy slumber as he swiveled his head, searching for the orange-haired man he'd shared his bed with for the last time. The fragrant smell of tea caressed his nose and lured him further from the clutches of unconsciousness. He rolled to the side of the bed, noting that it was empty, and rubbed a hand over his face, his inky hair tangling over his shoulders and down his back.

Byakuya could hear Ichigo moving around in the kitchen and allowed himself a weary sigh at the thought of what he was about to do. His gut churned restlessly, but he pushed it aside, knowing it had to be done. Last night, after making it home at around eight-thirty in the evening, he'd found Ichigo sitting at the kitchen table, playing idly with a chopstick, the other resting on the table beside a bowl of steamed, white rice. It looked as if he hadn't eaten and the realization that Ichigo had been waiting for him, nearly made him change his mind again.

Instead, he'd swallowed his guilt and met the red head's accusing gaze head-on, informing him that they had something important to discuss in the morning. The look he'd received, had been one of dismay and fear and although it killed him to walk away from Ichigo in that state, he'd done so. _It wouldn't do to get cold feet now_.

Byakuya went to the medium-sized closet he and Ichigo shared and pulled a dark-gray suit from a couple hangers, laying the office wear across the bed before trudging from the bedroom and into the bathroom. He knew he was buying time as he slowly showered, cleansing himself and his hair more times than was necessary, but he would admit – and only to himself, at that – that he was nervous and surely not looking forward to his discussion with Ichigo.

Ichigo had waited until he believed Byakuya to be asleep before coming to bed and even then, had slept as far away from him as possible. Ichigo knew something was amiss and it was all Byakuya's fault for mishandling the situation. He would rectify things shortly, but he also knew that Ichigo would possibly never forgive him.

_Still and all, it had to be done_.

Byakuya shut off the shower and climbed from behind the clear, plastic curtain, wrapping a light-blue towel around his waist and running another through his dripping hair. After a couple swipes, he let that towel settle across his shoulders as he made his way back to the bedroom, dread descending in his gut like a lead weight as he drew closer and closer to what needed to be done.

Contrary to what Ichigo believed, Byakuya wasn't cold and he had loved him, in some ways still did. The spark was no longer there, however, and further leading the younger man on, now, _that_ would have been cold. Byakuya dried himself fully and dressed at a snail's pace, taking extra care to button his pale blue dress shirt and knot his dark-gray tie. Finally, he slid his feet into a pair of dark dress shoes, grabbed his briefcase from beside the dresser and crawled down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Footsteps heavy and feeling ominous, Byakuya greeted the sight of Ichigo seated at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of tea, golden-brown eyes red-rimmed and ringed with darkness, with a slight grimace. Ichigo looked like he had gone through hell and back, only to turn and make the trip again. _It was hurtful to see, but even more hurtful to be the cause_.

Eyes weary and sad, Ichigo locked gazes with him, his mouth down-turned at the edges. "We're breaking up, aren't we?" he asked quietly, deep, husky voice cracking as if it hadn't been used in years.

Byakuya felt his shoulders sag with guilt, frustration, hurt and a tiny bit of relief. With Ichigo expecting it, it made things a little easier. "Yes," he finally answered with a nod.

It was Ichigo's turn for his shoulders to sag as he averted his eyes, but not in time for Byakuya to miss the tears gathering, consequently making his chest constrict and his lips purse together as the need to comfort the other man grew almost unbearable. "I knew it," Ichigo muttered. "I knew something was wrong these past couple of months."

There was a long silence, in which Byakuya had to force himself not to fidget. _Anger was what he'd been expecting, fury, livid shouting and raging hurt_. _Not this silence_. _Not this quiet acceptance_. The hush stretched on for a few minutes more and just as Byakuya opened his mouth to explain further, Ichigo spoke, beating him to the punch.

"Who is he?" he asked calmly, turning dulled, brown eyes in Byakuya's direction, nearly making him flinch from the sheer absence of light and life he saw in them. Then, the question registered.

_Now, came the hard part_.

Byakuya cleared his throat, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he did so, but never letting his gaze waver. "There is no man," he stated.

Ichigo frowned in confusion, obviously certain that there was someone else, when he froze and his lifeless eyes widened dramatically. "You're...leaving me...for a woman?" he choked.

"Yes." Byakuya swallowed and clenched his teeth tightly together as he maintained eye contact with the younger man. Ichigo remained silent for a while, mouth open in shock as he inwardly struggled with the news. Byakuya, not wanting to drag along the predicament he found himself in, continued. "I wish to be with her and she will come here. To stay," he clarified, inwardly wincing at the look that declaration provoked.

There was the anger Byakuya had been expecting from the very beginning. The deadness in Ichigo's eyes disappeared and was replaced with a fiery furnace of hatred. The orange-haired man glared at Byakuya as if he was the lowest form of scum and had just tried to touch him. A storm brewed and raged within those molten irises, but just as soon as it had begun, it was suddenly snuffed out.

Ichigo's shoulders sagged again and he turned away from Byakuya, slowly raising himself from the chair he was seated in and turning his back on him. Byakuya watched, regret pouring over him like a bucket of ice water, almost leaving him breathless as Ichigo moved towards the back door, his right hand coming up to massage his brow.

Still facing away from Byakuya, Ichigo spoke, his voice low and painfully raw. "So, what you're saying to me is that, not only are you dumping me for a woman, but you're kicking me out, too? I'm fucking homeless?"

Byakuya hated the incredulous, but agonized tone in the other man's voice, yet he wouldn't deny the truth. _He was sure Ichigo could return to his family, where they would be able to help him heal from his pain, from his hurt_. "Yes," he replied, making an effort to keep his own voice strong and clear.

_He didn't want to appear weak in front of the man_.

Ichigo made a noise that was caught between being a chuckle and a sob; it made Byakuya swallow forcefully again. "Three years," Ichigo mumbled in disbelief as he turned back to face Byakuya. "Three years and _this_ is the way we end? _This_ is how we go our separate ways? _Ar-Are you fucking kidding me right now?_" he asked, his voice rising with each question, until he was shouting.

Byakuya tensed, hoping things wouldn't escalate to the point of violence. He wanted to reassure Ichigo that he still cared for him and in the long run, this was better for the both of them. Ichigo would learn to get over his pain and hurt, later moving on, while Byakuya would be free to be with Hisana. The look on Ichigo's face was enough to convince him to keep his mouth shut, though.

"I-I can't believe this is happening," Ichigo went back to mumbling, although, that was short-lived. "And you didn't think to tell me I was gonna be homeless _before now_? Like, gee, Ichigo, I've been fucking a woman and I'm gonna move her in soon! Think maybe you should pack your shit while you've still got the chance!"

Byakuya bristled at the implication and hardened his gaze. "We have not had sex," he said firmly.

Ichigo scoffed. "As if that even fucking matters! Oh, but thanks for the ego boost, Byakuya! I'm being dumped for someone you haven't even had the decency to fuck first! Shame on me, right? You know what? Nothing else needs to be said. You've made it _painfully_ clear that you don't want me anymore. I'll be gone by the time you get home, that way you can move in your new squeeze!"

Ichigo's eyes were ovens, blazing with unbridled rage as he glared at Byakuya. Byakuya shook his head, knowing the outcome would end up as thus. _It was a shame really, but he'd made a mess of things and as such, had to live with the consequences of his actions_. Taking Ichigo's advice, after giving him one last glance, Byakuya nodded slightly and turning on his heel, left the kitchen, headed for the front door.

_They were both free to lead different lives now_.

**Xxx**

The kitchen was destroyed.

Chairs were knocked over and appliances thrown against the much loved yellow walls. Curtains lay ripped off, shredded like scraps and the table cloth was unrecognizable. It didn't look like a pleasant little kitchen anymore.

Ichigo stared numbly at the hardwood floor. He had been gazing at nothing for the last thirty minutes, trying to wrap his head around the conversation that transpired with his… _ex_-lover? Byakuya wasn't his anymore. He belonged to some woman. A woman he didn't even know or cared to know about and now Ichigo felt like complete, useless shit. He had never felt so humiliated in his short life the way he had when Byakuya said he was going to be with a _woman_.

It was scary to think that being with him, made a gay man turn straight. Granted, he was being over-dramatic but it was still there, the thought lingering on the edge of his mind.

He had told himself, over and over, that it would be better this way, that Byakuya and he hadn't been on the same page for a long time. It was still hard though, making his chest heavy and his breathing labored. Tears threatened to fall, stinging his eyes and bringing him to a state of absolute misery. He hated being hurt; he felt lost, swimming in a sea of emotions.

He just couldn't understand what he did wrong.

Ichigo was sitting on the floor against the refrigerator, wild, orange hair curled around tense hands when he heard the firm, curt knock. He didn't want to answer it, immediately knowing who it was.

Grimmjow was going to finish up today.

Ichigo burrowed further into the cocoon he had constructed with his body, shaking his head. He didn't care about the porch or the questioning voice outside. He didn't care about anything. He just wanted the raw, open pain slithering in his chest to stop.

Byakuya had forgotten to lock the door in his hasty exit, because standing in the door way was Grimmjow, a frown deeply etched on his face as he took in Ichigo's less than stable appearance. Ichigo shrugged at the unspoken question.

_Are you alright?_

Ichigo wouldn't meet his concerned gaze. He didn't want anyone's pity, not Grimmjow, not his family, not Rukia.

Now he did begin to cry, the thought of his best friend's frantic face coming to mind. The tears wouldn't listen to his plea to go away. He could see Rukia's expression when he told her, a calm fury erupting, blossoming into a raging storm. She had never been very good at controlling her anger and Ichigo knew she would be beyond furious.

He sobbed, shaking with the effort. Grimmjow squatted down, kneeling to his level and cautiously touching Ichigo's face. When he pulled his hand away, there was wetness caressing his skin. "What happened? Are you injured?" he mumbled.

Ichigo didn't look up, could hardly answer. His sobs slowly subsided and he shook his head, scrubbing away shameful, hot tears. He hated crying. Crying in front of Grimmjow, who probably wouldn't understand _why_ he would cry over such a thing, made him feel worse.

"Tell me. I want to know why you're upset." Grimmjow sighed when Ichigo curled up into his knees. He couldn't grasp why the orange haired man wouldn't tell him the problem, so he could fix it.

Ichigo's shoulders sagged. Finally, he looked up, the skin under his eyes puffy and raw from his emotional episode. His face, normally tan and vibrant, was now pale and lifeless. He was a wreck, to put it bluntly. He steeled himself for what he was about to say.

"Byakuya is leaving me and kicking me out."

At first Grimmjow just blinked at the information, absorbing it with a stone face, and then he let out a low growl, deep blue eyes narrowing. "He's leaving you? Why?"

Ichigo frowned, trying to think of a reason, something he did that would make Byakuya want out. He came up with only one.

"I'm a man."

It was Grimmjow's turn to frown now. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Pearly white teeth clamped down on a plump bottom lip. "He wants to be with a woman, Grimmjow. He doesn't want me because I'm a man." Ichigo hoped Grimmjow understood because he didn't think he could bring himself to explain again without fresh tears leaking out.

Grimmjow stood and ran long fingers through his mess of blue hair, thinking over what Ichigo said. "I thought he was gay?" He held out his hand to the other man, hoping Ichigo would accept.

Ichigo shrugged, taking the proffered hand and hauling himself up from his rut. He wiped at his eyes a few times, just for something to take away the awkward tension filling the kitchen. A room he would never see again. Their kitchen was his favorite place; he could look out the window and see the modest garden and flowers planted there. All the happy memories. They didn't matter now.

"He was, but now he's changed his mind. He fell in love with some woman, and now he wants me gone. Like I never existed. I'm supposed to get my shit and get out, I guess."

Grimmjow frowned, leaning against the wall and crossing his thick arms. "Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know," Ichigo whispered, feeling overly exposed by their conversation. He and Grimmjow had spent a little more time together over the last two months, but ever since that dinner, they had each distanced themselves from the other. It was strange to Ichigo to be speaking to Grimmjow like this, like they were friends. "My family lives two hours away just outside Karakura, but I need to keep my job. Our hometown doesn't have that many opportunities available for teachers. It's one of the reasons why Byakuya and I moved out here."

There was a pregnant silence. Grimmjow was thinking, Ichigo could tell. He always had his eyes facing up, a habit Ichigo quickly caught on to and secretly thought was cute. When Grimmjow's smooth voice broke through the tranquility, Ichigo almost jumped at the unexpected occurrence. He was used to the blue haired man leaving conversations hanging, rather than finishing them.

"You can stay with me, if you want. I have enough room. While I finish the porch, you can pack."

Ichigo nearly hyperventilated at the words, eyes widening in surprise. This man was offering him a place to stay? And then he frowned, clenching his fists. "I don't want your pity, I didn't tell you to-"

"I'm not giving you pity. It's temporary, Ichigo." Grimmjow sighed, shuffling his feet and stretching. Ichigo was glued to the patch of skin reveled from his shirt ridding up. He blushed and looked away, hating himself for still being attracted to Grimmjow. "The offer's on the table, take it or leave it."

Reluctantly Ichigo gave in. "Alright, but I'm giving you rent money. I won't stay there and mooch off of your kindness! I'm not like that."

Grimmjow chuckled ruefully, pushing off the wall and walking past Ichigo to step outside. "It won't take me too long; I just have to finish painting."

Ichigo nodded. He didn't have many possessions to pack, anyway. Almost everything was Byakuya's.

**Xxx**

A few hours later, Grimmjow had finished and was currently helping Ichigo take a few boxes to his truck. Ichigo watched as he loaded the last one like it was nothing. It was mostly his clothes, a few pictures. He didn't bother to clean up the kitchen, hoping that Byakuya would come home with his pretty, new girl and see the wreckage. See the tangibility of Ichigo's despair. He wanted Byakuya to know how deeply he had wronged him.

"Ready?" Grimmjow asked quietly, already opening the door to his truck, waiting for Ichigo to do the same. Ichigo nodded, forcing a smile to curl his teeth bitten lips.

As they drove away, he felt the raw ache at the disappearing house he'd spent over three years, all the memories he experienced, and all the joy he had had vanish.

It was no longer his home anymore.

Now, life had thrown him off, so he had to get himself together and sew up the holes. The rough hum of the truck's engine helped him focus on something else. He glanced at Grimmjow's form, noticing the peaceful expression on his face, how his beautiful blue eyes seemed to glow in the evening twilight.

It would be okay, Ichigo reasoned. He would get through this and become stronger for it.

**Xxx**

It was a week later that led Ichigo to a seedy bar a few miles from his former residence. It wasn't the nicest establishment, by far, from the patrons that littered the small building. Ichigo noted the dust on the chairs and mud on the hardwood floor. Not a place for him, that was for sure.

He just needed to get out and away. Living with Grimmjow wasn't hard, but lonely. The man had a strict routine he followed. Ichigo was not used to such things, and it was hard to adjust. They seemed to have the same work schedule, so Grimmjow would usually be home when Ichigo was. It was… awkward. Not tense, no, just different. He was used to a quiet house, not soft footsteps and the smell of cinder and different woods.

The bar was noisy tonight, interrupting his musing with the sound of loud jeers. Ichigo had a flat, black cap covering his neon orange locks, just because he was _not _in the mood for the jeering taunts about his appearance. He swirled a shot glass of vodka around dejectedly, trying to keep his mind nice and blank. Usually he wasn't a drinker other than the occasional glass of wine, but lately, he'd been hitting the bottles pretty hard.

His life had unraveled as quickly as a spool of thread.

Ichigo's lips almost touched the rim of the shot glass, so close, before a chinking noise caught his attention. He had been so wrapped up in not thinking about thinking that he hadn't noticed that a skinny arm had twisted under his, bone thin fingers curled around another glass now touching his own noisily.

Ichigo blinked, slowly turning to look at the brash man the limb belonged to, only to meet slitted eyes and an entirely too wide grin. Frowning, Ichigo tried untangling their arms, but the stranger wasn't having it. The man chuckled, and the sound instantly had Ichigo shivering. It was light and airy, but didn't seem like it was meant to be pleasant. He reminded Ichigo of a snake with those odd features, angular and deceiving.

"Well hey there, how ya doin'?" was the silvery whisper in greeting.

Ichigo's unease multiplied tenfold. First of all, you didn't touch another man in a bar, of all places, unless you really wanted your "faggot ass" kicked. Ichigo knew that fact first hand, so this brazen man was treading a thin line Ichigo didn't want to tumble over. Ichigo could already feel malicious eyes burning holes into their bodies, itching to start a fight, calculating and analyzing. If the stranger noticed, he didn't let on.

Finally, after another few agonizing seconds, the man retreated, a snarky grin curling his lips as he brought the glass to his mouth, downing the amber liquid swishing around. "What's wrong with you," Ichigo ground out, narrowing his darkened brown eyes. "Do you know what you just did?"

Bony shoulders shrugged in reply. Ichigo stood and threw down a few bills, hoping to leave before a fight broke out from the sizeable tension permeating in the room.

He knew he was being followed, even before he felt thick, stubby fingers clenching hard on his shoulder, spinning him back against the unforgiving brick of the dark, dirty alley.

There were three men in all, various sinister expressions coloring their shaded faces. The man holding him to the wall, had blunt features, ugly really, with dirty blond hair slicked back. His friends, a redhead with hollow eyes and a short-statured, blacked haired man, were smirking at him.

Ichigo frowned, already calculating his chances of making it out of this fight without any bruises. He could take two, but he'd have to be careful of the third with stringy, black hair. His hand was stuffed in a jean pocket, presumably curled around a knife. Ichigo really hoped that wasn't the case.

The stench of alcoholic breath had Ichigo gagging, but he needed to act quickly to gain the element of surprise. Before the man could say anything nasty, Ichigo reared his head back and slammed it into a hard forehead, relishing in the pained cry that broke out. The thug was knocked back enough so Ichigo could move, dodging the punch coming from his right. He let his elbow come up and smash into a nose, delighted as the redhead who had thrown the punch, howled and grabbed his face, blood sluggishly running down it.

The man with the knife wasn't moving yet, watching Ichigo take down the two idiots who dared think he was some weak little bitch. Ichigo had learned to fight at a young age, and he was a force to be reckoned with. The blond and the redhead fell at his feet, giving him time to rest against the wall. They had gotten in a few hits, which wouldn't have fazed him any other time, but the blond asshole had brass knuckles covering a hand. Ichigo had taken a throw to his temple, leaving him woozy and blinking away the tempting darkness. He was just damn lucky he was fast, or else, he would be dead.

Ichigo startled when thin fingers curled around his arm, pulling him back. He looked up into the slitted, icy eyes of the stranger from the bar. His silver hair fell into his eyes, but his smile slithered onto his face. "Need some help?"

Growling, Ichigo shook off the offending digits, intent on finishing what he started. Before he could make a move, the last thug shouted out, eyes bulging. He backed away slowly, taking off in a run and leaving his friends crumpled in the alley.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo groaned, not comprehending what the man was so afraid of. It certainly wasn't Ichigo.

The stranger chuckled good-naturedly and wound an arm around Ichigo's lower back, helping to support his weight. "They know me 'round these parts," was all the explanation he supplied. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride. You look a lil' tired."

Ichigo would have further protested, but his limbs ached and his head throbbed in pain, so he nodded weakly and let the other lead him to a beat up car parked nearby. "Name's Gin, by the way."

Bony hands unlocked and opened the passenger door for Ichigo, assisting him with climbing inside. Warily, he watched the taller man saunter over and start the car up, whistling all the while. His demeanor creeped Ichigo out. "Y'know, you shouldn't trust strangers so easily, kid. Never know what could happen."

The vehicle creaked to a start, as Gin shifted gears. Ichigo narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the thin figure practically glowing with mirth. "Are you threatening me?" Ichigo growled, holding his temple and hoping the vicious throb would ease. It didn't.

"Nah," Gin smiled, "what's the address? I'm not psychic."

Ichigo blushed when a silver head turned to him, those narrowed eyes opening to reveal a startling blue. Gin really was a beautiful man, despite his strange countenance. Ichigo couldn't deny it and the fact was written all over his face. He mumbled Grimmjow's address, feeling awkward and embarrassed even though he wasn't sure why. The words were so foreign on his lips.

Not once did Gin ask for anything else, pulling up to the impressively detailed house sometime later like he owned the place. Ichigo just wanted to get inside and lay down, the day's events catching up with him quickly. He wanted to ask Gin how he knew how to get to Grimmjow's house so easily, but refrained. At this point he didn't care.

"You, uh, want me to help you inside?" the question went unanswered as Ichigo pushed open the passenger door and struggled to get out, standing on shaky legs. He was surprised when he turned back to thank the man, that said man was right behind him. He never even heard Gin move.

Ichigo shivered. It was strangely arousing that Gin could be so deadly quiet. Ichigo shook his head and blushed harder, hating himself for his thoughts. Really? Was he that desperate, it had barely been any time since…

A hand, long and elegant, pressed against his lower back and Gin led him to the door, grinning widely for some reason. Ichigo eyed him as he opened the door, awkwardly standing in the threshold. "Well, thank you, for everything. Um…" His sentence was abruptly cut off as Gin leaned against the doorway, towering over him and just a smidgen too close for comfort. If Ichigo were a lesser man, he would have made a completely unmanly sound of shock. This guy. He was full of surprises.

"Ichimaru. Give me your hand."

Ichigo watched the other man take a pen from who knows where while he held out his hand, confusion written all over his face. The sensual feeling of Gin jotting something down had him groaning. His hands had always been sensitive for some reason. By the look Gin was giving him it wasn't unnoticed.

Gin stepped back, giving Ichigo a friendly wave and retreating to his car. Mechanically, Ichigo shut the door and leaned back against it, letting out a breath. That had to have been the strangest encounter he had had in all his years. He glanced down at his now ink covered palm, noting the curvy, precise numbers.

A phone number.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow sat on the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of orange juice, when Ichigo strolled in, rubbing his sleepy, brown eyes. Their gazes met briefly before Grimmjow turned back to the window he'd been staring out of, frowning slightly.

_Ichigo never woke this early in the past week he'd been staying with him_.

"G'mornin'," the orange-haired man grunted, voice thick and sleep-husky.

Grimmjow turned and nodded in Ichigo's direction, noting the way the younger man dragged himself towards the stove and a white tea kettle he'd purchased a few days before. Ichigo loved tea in the morning, the same way some people loved coffee, Grimmjow noticed. Ichigo had on a thin, white t-shirt, black, cotton lounge pants and nothing on his feet as he shuffled over to the sink after retrieving the tea kettle, right beside where Grimmjow was perched on the counter.

"Why are you sitting up there?" Ichigo croaked, shooting Grimmjow a cursory glance.

"I like looking out the window in the morning," he answered flatly.

Ichigo arched a thin orange brow, but continued filling the kettle with water before shutting off the tap and taking it back to the stove, where he flipped on a burner and settled the kettle on top of it. He took his time ambling over to the kitchen table, where he plunked into a seat and lowered his head to the tabletop.

Grimmjow watched him with a deep scowl etched across his brow. Ever since he'd found Ichigo in the destroyed kitchen of his old home, curled up on the floor in the corner, this behavior had been normal. Ichigo moped around the house after he got off work and it was confusing. Grimmjow didn't understand why he was acting so strangely; the incident with Byakuya had been a little more than a week ago.

Thinking of Ichigo's old roommate made Grimmjow growl under his breath as he turned back to the window and the sun peeking over the horizon. He had always known the man wasn't right for Ichigo, but there was no reason for him to have upset the orange-haired man so deeply. When Grimmjow had found Ichigo in that kitchen, his chest had begun to hurt and the only thing he could think of was finding out the problem, so he could go about finding a solution.

_He hated seeing Ichigo in pain_.

He hadn't been prepared to feel such an intense rush of anger and protectiveness for the younger man, but he had. Finding out Ichigo was basically homeless because of his former roommate hadn't helped matters, either, but Grimmjow had come up with a solution for that problem. Ichigo would stay with him temporarily, while he got back on his feet and was able to find his own place. Ichigo had insisted on paying rent; Grimmjow had started to refuse him, but decided arguing with Ichigo was much less pleasant than just going with the flow.

_Easier said than done_.

Grimmjow hadn't expected the awkward feelings that accompanied having someone else staying in his home. He was paranoid and always worrying about whether Ichigo would touch his things, or go into the room where he kept his wood carvings. He also liked things done a certain way and Ichigo often deviated from Grimmjow's routine, frustrating him. There had been one instance where Grimmjow had been ready for his after work shower, but Ichigo had been in the bathroom already. It had thrown him off completely and he hadn't bothered keeping quiet about it, either.

Things had smoothed out some, but there was still the feelings of awkwardness and paranoia that Grimmjow harbored with having Ichigo as a housemate. He glanced over at the orange-haired man as he slouched over to the stove again, the tea kettle whistling loudly.

_There had to be something he could do to rid himself of such feelings_.

**Please tell us what you think, as usual! Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

**Xxx**

Ichigo groaned against a sharp, pale shoulder, the noise cutting through the complete silence of the scarce room. He felt completely overwhelmed, his palms sweaty and his body on fire as he moved. The shadowed figure below him let out a hiss, spidery hands clenching against his back sporadically.

"Fuck, yer gettin' good at this," Gin practically spat out, as Ichigo struck his prostate rather viciously in rapid succession. His shapely legs were gripping Ichigo's furiously thrusting hips like a thermometer clamp, feet digging into his ass uncomfortably, which Ichigo ignored in favor of the delicious heat coiling in his belly.

Smirking devilishly, Ichigo leaned up, biting his silver haired lover's earlobe playfully and laughing at the wide, devious grin Gin shot him in return. That grin had Ichigo wanting to go faster, harder, anything to please his partner. Gin shouted when Ichigo quickened his pace, clawing thin, bubbling, red lines and arching his back clear off the bed in wanton desire.

Being the one on top was strangely thrilling for Ichigo, who was too used to submitting to Byakuya and never once asking if he could, in turn, take the man. Byakuya was too caught up in control and what was proper to really care about Ichigo and his feelings, or more importantly, his _wants_.

Gin, however, was more than willing to give him a chance. Their first sexual encounter together had Ichigo beyond nervous, as Gin had pushed him down and slid onto his lap, guiding Ichigo with patient, and, surprisingly gentle hands. Ever since that night, Ichigo had learned to take more initiative, enjoying the control Gin allowed him. He knew the other man was more than capable of turning the tables at any given moment.

Ichigo rolled them over, licking his lips as Gin steadied himself, not needing to be instructed on what to do. His usually slitted eyes opened slightly in concentration and overwhelming pleasure, those alluring, slim hips undulating roughly against Ichigo's. Ichigo admired Gin's long, feline body, moving gracefully above him and let his hands wander, curving on Gin's narrow waist and traveling lower, to the man's firm, toned ass. Deep, mahogany eyes met Gin's heated, glacier blue, and Ichigo panted shakily, loving the feel of Gin's velvet insides squeezing his sensitive erection.

How had he never done this before? Not that being on the bottom wasn't completely amazing, both positions offering pros and cons, but Ichigo loved the pleasure that _he_ was bestowing upon the other. Every tiny hitch in Gin's breath or a particularly long, drawn out wail, was so incredibly rewarding.

"Ah, nnghhh, Gin," he moaned silkily, throwing his head of vibrant, sunset orange hair back against the pillow, clenching his hand and lifting the other man faster, thrusting his hips up in swift, uneven thrusts.

Gin was deathly silent as he came, arms quaking with the effort of keeping himself above Ichigo's overheated body. Ichigo could feel him tense and then the sensation of come shooting onto his slick abdomen.

"Shit," Ichigo groaned, not too far behind. He gave one last _hard_ thrust and spilled inside of Gin's clenching insides. Gin smiled down at him before falling to the side, clearly exhausted.

"Y'always so _chatty_ when we do this. I like it," Gin drawled after recuperating for a bit, leering at him on his elbows, probably ready for round two.

Ichigo snorted, scowling deeply at the other man. "I'm not chatty. You're just creepy and quiet." He rolled over, effectively ending the minimal conversation Gin always tried to start. He didn't want useless pillow talk, at least not from Gin.

Their relationship was rather black and white. It hadn't taken Ichigo long to contact Gin, sitting day in and out in Grimmjow's house – except for going to work – had been wearing on him. Grimmjow was… not _difficult_ to get along with, not really, just different. It was somewhat like living with Byakuya again. Only Grimmjow wasn't remotely affectionate and didn't expect him to do anything like cleaning and cooking. It was refreshing to not have to always be thinking about house chores. Cooking wasn't so much of a hassle; instead, he enjoyed cooking in Grimmjow's modest kitchen. It was nice.

But his mind didn't ease and his heart still longed for Byakuya. He had loved him for so long that it proved incredibly difficult to get over. Just the thought of being betrayed, hurt beyond words, and by someone he gave everything to. A relationship he ignored his _family_ for.

Ichigo frowned when a long, alabaster hand curved around his shoulder, Gin's skinny body cradling his own in a mock embrace. Nothing Gin did was loving or romantic, Ichigo found, so this affection was only something to amuse him. Thin lips pressed against the nape of his neck and he shivered all over. It was a sensitive spot.

This thing he had with Gin was easy and convenient. Ichigo didn't want personal. He just wanted to take his mind off his situation. Gin provided an excellent distraction.

And who was he kidding, with Grimmjow walking around without a shirt on half the time? He needed _release_. He was young and used to enjoying a regular sex life. Not to say he was insatiable; he could live without it, unlike some men.

"Same time next week then, Ichi?" Gin purred softly, lips pressing with each motion his mouth made against Ichigo's rapidly cooling skin.

Ichigo shrugged, glancing behind him when he no longer felt Gin's body heat. "I thought you said Aizen was coming back?"

Gin stopped attempting to fit into his pants in the darkness, turning mischievous blues on him. "Eh, he's not comin' back till the next day. Said he still had some business in China or somethin'." The silver haired man chuckled merrily, resuming clothing himself like he was flippantly talking about the weather.

"We really shouldn't do this. Would he be mad…you know, if he found out?"

Ichigo knew Gin's lover. He was a powerful business man who had connections and he was not to be messed with. Gin waved a hand, buttoning up his shirt with the other. Ichigo was impressed with his hand-eye coordination.

Gin smiled, almost sadly. "Nah, he doesn't care what I do. Hell, he probably has a few I don't know about." He sauntered over to Ichigo, leaning down to place an uncharacteristically chaste kiss on his forehead. Ichigo blushed, but allowed it. "Thanks fer the worry, though. You're a doll."

Ichigo scowled again, his second one in five minutes.

Gin grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the perfectly carved, sanded and stained nightstand, tapping and placing one behind his ear. Ichigo's molten, brown eyes trailed his form until he reached the doorway, grinning. "Bye, bye!"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo just nodded. He was used to Gin's eccentric tendencies.

Grimmjow would be home soon. So, regretfully, Ichigo rose from the comfortable bed, stretching out his muscles. He really didn't feel like doing anything, but Grimmjow would probably be hungry and it was the least he could do for the man who had graciously let him stay at his own home, despite the fact that they weren't on the best of terms.

A sigh fell from his lips as Ichigo silently padded down the steps after throwing on a loose shirt and a pair of dark, cotton pants with socks.

Grimmjow wasn't a big eater, Ichigo had discovered, so he just whipped up enough fried rice for the two of them. He wasn't that hungry, but decided if he ate now, he could just sleep until tomorrow. It was a nice thought. His chest still ached and if he let his mind stray, he would undoubtedly start thinking about his ex and that _woman_, now sharing a house that had been his home for the past few years.

At least with the hours Ichigo had to use Gin's body, nothing even remotely mattered. He didn't have to think, his mind a nice, clear canvas and their sessions happened to relieve a multitude of stress. All in all, it worked out pretty well.

Ichigo huffed, setting the table and sitting down. He checked the clock on the wall with a slight frown. He had finished the meal but he wasn't exactly sure when Grimmjow would be home. He knew he worked at a pretty set routine, but he figured Grimmjow would have to come home before dark. Time ticked by slowly, and Ichigo was beginning to get irritated. Before he knew it, an entire hour had sailed by.

He waited.

And waited. And there went two entire hours and with them his patience. He was nearly seething like an animal, his feet making more noise than probably needed as he paced back and forth like some kind of housewife. Which he was certainly _not_, mind you. And Grimmjow didn't exactly _know_ he had cooked him a lovely dinner for two, so he shouldn't be mad, right?

But he was. It was irrevocably in Ichigo's nature.

And he was fully prepared to give Grimmjow at least a lecture, until he heard a noise.

The creak of the front door opening alerted Ichigo that Grimmjow was home, looking around the room with bleary eyes. He was gorgeous as always and the words Ichigo was about to vomit had lodged deep in his throat.

Grimmjow glanced at him with those sharp eyes, not looking at him but at the same time he felt too exposed, so he backed up and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Why were you gone so late?"

There was a pause, awkward and a little uncomfortable before Grimmjow growled lowly, "I always go to the bar after I finish."

Ichigo shuddered from that velveteen voice, arousal heady in the pit of his stomach before he willed it away, nodding. He decided this battle didn't need to be fought quite yet.

He plastered on a smile for the man, setting down a bowl of hot, steaming rice onto the kitchen table. Grimmjow blinked owlishly at the dishes littering the surface as he came inside and shut the door. "You made me dinner," Grimmjow pointed out blandly, leaning against the door frame and scrutinizing the food. Ichigo stood there dumbly, scratching the back of his head with an honest grin.

"Is that… okay?"

"It's fine."

Ichigo eyed Grimmjow lazily, scooting around the kitchen to grab two glasses. Grimmjow seemed lost in thought, thin, blue brows narrowed in concentration. There was tension quickly filling up the air, but maybe Ichigo was just being paranoid. Did Grimmjow not want him around, now? Was he annoying the man? He wasn't sure if he should breach the subject, not wanting to hear another bitter rejection. "Why don't you sit down? It'll get cold if you just stare at it," he bit out, not able to keep all of his irritation from before out of his voice.

That got a reaction. Grimmjow sent him a slightly peeved look but complied, slowly taking a seat. He seemed to be studying the food. Ichigo frowned deeply, returning to the table with fresh tea. He placed the glass in front of the carpenter carefully.

Finally, Grimmjow relented in his analyzing and picked up the set of chopsticks lying beside the cooling bowl and breaking them apart, setting out to eat after a quickly muttered "Itadakimasu".

Ichigo wasn't one for useless conversation on principle, but the pregnant, awkward silence was biting at him. So cautiously, he lifted his roaming gaze and zeroed in on a fleck of rice clinging to Grimmjow's sculpted lip, begging to be licked off. He cleared his throat, catching the other man's attention. "I was thinking about making _oshiruko._ Do you like red beans, y'know, in case I decided to make it?"

For a few agonizing seconds, Ichigo was afraid he had offended Grimmjow. He had a sour expression on his normally devoid face. His lips pressed together and the single grain of rice fell, "I don't know," he mumbled. "My mother is a better cook than I am and she never made that."

Ichigo visibly brightened, chuckling softly at the confused expression of his new roommate. "My mom used to make it all the time. It's delicious and I kind of started a tradition after she died to make it every Sunday for my sisters. I'll try it sometime and see how you like it."

Grimmjow tapped his perspiring glass of tea absently, cobalt blue eyes trained on a bead of glistening water sliding down from the rim. "What happened to your mother? What was she like?"

A little, almost inaudible gasp escaped Ichigo. He nearly cursed himself for the behavior. He hadn't been asked that in so long, the raw, open pain of such an honest question took him off guard. It was only fair, however, to tell Grimmjow. He usually answered anything Ichigo wanted to know about his family.

"She…she was born in America and her family came over here shortly after the first World War. She met up with my father when she was young. He's ridiculous and an idiot most of the time, but she loved him. They had me pretty quickly, and then set about building a small clinic. My twin sisters came a few years later, but she got hit hard with depression. Everyone thought she was crazy. She'd hide in her room for hours, crying or sleeping." Ichigo trailed off, biting his lip. "Sorry," he mumbled quickly in embarrassment.

Ichigo's eyes widened when a smile stretched across Grimmjow's mouth, morphing his usually surly features. It was beautiful. It wasn't as if the man never smiled, he was just reserved. Probably afraid of saying or doing the wrong things, Ichigo thought, remembering Ishida's explanation of Grimmjow's possible disorder.

"It's alright. I like hearing you speak about your family."

A damning blush instantly began spreading up Ichigo's neck and botching his cheeks a coral pink. He inwardly groaned. It wasn't even really a compliment, so why was he so affected by Grimmjow? Was it really just blind, overwhelming lust? He wasn't so sure anymore.

"Thanks, Grimmjow. Usually I don't like talking about it. People immediately try to blame someone, like my dad. But now I know, no matter what we did, she just wasn't happy. So, anyway, your mom is a good cook?" Ichigo questioned lightly, more than ready to deter the subject to happier topics.

Grimmjow shrugged, grinning slightly. "She does alright." He didn't elaborate, but Ichigo could tell there was a fondness when he spoke about his adopted mother. Like Grimmjow, Ichigo enjoyed listening to him talk about his own family. There was something sweet about it, and the light tone he used made Ichigo's body feel rubbery and gooey and tingly all over.

This time, the silence that lapsed was comforting. They didn't need to fill it with anything else. Ichigo was more than content to secretly watch Grimmjow eat, and how the awkward, unsureness had dissipated.

"I'm going to take a shower," Grimmjow announced, having finished his meal. Ichigo smiled and nodded, getting up to place the dishes in the sink.

Grimmjow was at the staircase before Ichigo had decided to breach a subject he wasn't sure how Grimmjow was going to react to. He sucked in a breath and turned toward the man. "Would… would you like to visit my family with me? W-when you're not busy. Maybe one day soon? I haven't seen them in a long time."

Grimmjow stiffened visibly. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, creating a freshly tense atmosphere that had Ichigo frowning.

Ichigo knew it was asking a lot of the carpenter; they had only been living together for a short time, but he didn't have any transportation besides a terribly aggravating bus ride.

Finally, after a long, pregnant silence, Grimmjow mumbled, "Maybe." He left the conversation at that and went upstairs, not looking back at Ichigo.

_Well, that's better than no,_ Ichigo figured, trying to stomp down the threat of disappointment.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow closed the pale yellow shower curtain and stood under the soothing, warm spray of water. His mind was a mess as he tried to make sense of what Ichigo had just asked him. Grimmjow wasn't opposed to the idea of meeting the man's family, but he found himself being extremely wary of meeting new people. He didn't like the way strangers looked at him and treated him as if he was some type of caged animal. No matter how much he tried to blend in, people would always make the fact that he was different stand out like a bright light in a dark room.

Grimmjow sighed as he quickly cleaned himself and his hair, then rinsed and shut off the water. He was tired. Rangiku had been at the bar and had made her usual proposal, but he hadn't been in the mood to have sex. His body was strangely weary, making him feel like he was coming down with a cold. He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a light green, terry-cloth towel and after wrapping the fluffy strip of material around his trim waist, he left the bathroom, shutting off the light as he went. While shuffling to his bedroom, he passed Ichigo in the hallway, a frown distorting his features when he saw the look plastered on the younger man's face.

Ichigo's lips were parted and the golden hued skin of his face was mottled with crimson as those normally kind, brown eyes traveled over Grimmjow's body, slowly taking their time in raking his frame from head to toe and back. Those mesmerizing eyes were filled with something Grimmjow was hesitant to acknowledge. Grimmjow didn't know if Ichigo realized that he was being quite blatant with his staring at the moment and, honestly, he didn't think the orange-haired man cared all that much. Gripping the edge of his towel, Grimmjow padded the rest of the way to his room, his heart thudding in his chest. As he closed the wooden door, he leaned his back against it, his eyebrows flying into his hairline.

_What the hell?_

Ichigo had been looking at him the way Rangiku looked at him when she wanted to fuck him. The feeling that realization brought about was one of astonishment, leaving him shaking slightly and flustered beyond belief. He didn't know how to deal with the new sensations cresting in his chest and filling his stomach. There had to be a logical explanation for the looks Ichigo had been combing his nearly naked body with.

Grimmjow ran a hand through his damp hair and blew out a breath. He wasn't stupid, contrary to what most people tended to assume. He knew how to recognize lust most of the time, especially when it was as obvious as a puddle of oil on white marble, but when it came to reacting to it, that was a different story altogether. The only reason he was even comfortable with Rangiku was because she had made the first move years ago; not only that, but she understood him in ways that most people didn't. She knew his quirks, knew his need to adhere to a strict routine, knew his dislike for eye contact and most of all, knew that he hated change. He was used to her, sort of the way he was used to the tools he used for his woodcarving.

_Ichigo was different_.

He'd only just met the guy not too long ago and he hardly knew anything about him, aside from the fact that he used to sleep with his roommate. _Well, that wasn't entirely true_. He knew Ichigo was a school teacher – he remembered the younger man gushing about his students and how much he enjoyed helping the small children learn new things. He now knew that Ichigo had a thing for tea, liked to take long showers that left the bathroom uncomfortably hot and humid afterward, and that Ichigo had recently been put out of the home he had shared with his roommate.

Grimmjow still hadn't completely wrapped his mind around that one. He couldn't understand why Ichigo's roommate had suddenly had a change of heart, but when he'd seen the orange-haired man curled up on his old kitchen floor, he'd felt spectacular anger and something else he couldn't quite identify. _He never wanted to see Ichigo like that again_. Lately, things had calmed down somewhat and Ichigo no longer walked around the house like the world had come to an end and everyone had forgotten to tell him. Grimmjow was still cautious about his things, but he was slowly coming to realize that Ichigo had no intentions of destroying his woodwork, or violating his privacy.

Actually, he was kind of starting to like coming home to the sound of Ichigo moving around in the guest room, or Ichigo making tea in the morning while Grimmjow watched him from his perch on the kitchen counter. He didn't really mind the younger man's company. Not to mention, he had a chance to appreciate Ichigo's beauty up close and hearing his kind, soothing voice on a daily basis was like a dream come true. Grimmjow secretly enjoyed the moments when he would catch Ichigo leaving the bathroom after a shower, when water still clung to his lithely muscular form and darkened his bright orange hair, leaving it plastered to his skull, but sticking up in the oddest of directions. He enjoyed listening to Ichigo rambling to himself when he fixed his tea in the morning, or when he was in his room doing whatever it was that kept him busy. Most of all, Grimmjow enjoyed talking to him – _well, not really talking_; _more like listening_ – and seeing the orange-haired man's smile lighting up whatever room they happened to be in at the moment. Ichigo's smile was brighter than the sun and it always made Grimmjow feel like he'd just swallowed an ice cube.

_So, did recent events mean Ichigo thought he was attractive too? If he did, what did it ultimately mean?_ Grimmjow was still confused. He knew the looks Ichigo had just been giving him would plague him for the rest of the night and he definitely wasn't looking forward to missing sleep over something that could be easily solved simply by asking. But even that gave Grimmjow pause. Ichigo was so volatile, getting angry at the slightest thing and Grimmjow hated pissing the man off. He hated upsetting Ichigo and seeing that look on his face. Ichigo's face was made for smiling and when Grimmjow was the one that put a frown on that beautiful canvas, it ate him from the inside out like acid.

Grimmjow grimaced and pushed away from the door, making his way over to his bed and the clothes he had spread across it. Deep violet, cotton, lounge pants and an old, white, form-fitting, sleeveless top made up his sleepwear and as soon as he donned them, he slid back to his bedroom door. He'd decided that he would just ask Ichigo what the looks had meant. If the orange-haired man got mad at him, then he would just have to make it up to him, but his curiosity was driving him insane and he couldn't stand not knowing.

He left the room and softly padded over to Ichigo's closed door. After staring at the wooden panel, he finally raised a hand and knocked twice. He swallowed and shifted his weight to his right foot as he waited for an indication that Ichigo was in the room. When he heard no noise, he knocked again, this time hard enough for the impacts to sting his knuckles. Again, there was no noise, so Grimmjow decided that his house guest had to either be in the kitchen or the bathroom. Since the bathroom door was still wide open and the interior dark, that only left the kitchen. Grimmjow lightly descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen, the light blazing and soft clinking sounds bouncing off the walls. Grimmjow peered inside and stifled a smile. Ichigo had his arms plunged deeply into a sink full of sudsy water, the sleeves to a loose, gray shirt rolled up over his biceps. His dark blue lounge pants clung low on his slim hips as he stood with his right foot resting atop his left. The funny thing, though, was that Ichigo's face was flushed a brilliant shade of red and his bottom lip looked like he'd nearly chewed it off.

Grimmjow cleared his throat as he entered the kitchen, making Ichigo jump dramatically as he dropped a dish back into the sink and whirled around to face him. Soap bubbles flew, hitting the floor with loud slaps, but Grimmjow paid it no mind. He would much rather take in the sight of the obviously flustered young man. He hadn't even done anything and yet, Ichigo was behaving as if Grimmjow was the boogeyman.

"Shit! Don't do that!" Ichigo yelped, throwing a hand to his chest.

Grimmjow grinned. "Don't do what? I didn't do anything."

"You scared the hell out of me! I didn't even hear you come in!"

"Oh."

Ichigo took a few more deep breaths as he studied Grimmjow, but Grimmjow avoided the piercing, brown gaze being directed at him. No matter how much he liked Ichigo, he was still uncomfortable with making eye contact with him. "Was there something you needed?" Ichigo asked, his tone curious.

"Yeah." Grimmjow said as he decided to just get the question out of the way so he could deal with the consequences. He was hoping Ichigo wouldn't get mad at him, though, so he hesitated before clearing his throat and jumping in head first. "Why were you looking at me like that earlier?"

He could see Ichigo frowning in confusion from his peripheral. "Like what? And earlier when?"

"In the hall upstairs after I came out of the shower, you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me."

The silence that followed his statement could only be described as charged and full of surprise. Grimmjow bit his bottom lip to try to hide his nervousness as he waited for Ichigo to explode in anger at him. A few more seconds of silence stretched between them before Grimmjow finally gathered the courage to give Ichigo a quick glance. What he saw shocked him, although his facial expression didn't change. Ichigo's face was shaming a tomato with its hue and his almond-shaped, syrupy brown eyes were wide as shot-put discs. Grimmjow arched a brow, but made no move to say anything as he watched the orange-haired man's mouth open and close. Ichigo sputtered a few times before his eyes lowered to the floor and his neck and ears were consumed with bright red. Grimmjow didn't understand the guy's reaction, but he was willing to wait and see if Ichigo was going to explain himself.

"I...I..." Ichigo started, but his voice trailed off as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

"Are you OK, Ichigo?" Grimmjow asked, peering at the younger man with concern.

_Was he hurt? Had he upset him with his comment?_ Ichigo didn't really seem to be mad, but he was behaving strangely. Grimmjow edged closer to him and stopped about a foot away. He was hesitant to go any further for fear of really upsetting Ichigo. He hated making the teacher angry.

"I...I just...I really don't know how to respond to that," Ichigo whispered at long last.

Grimmjow scowled and rubbed the tip of his nose. Now, he was confused and a little peeved that he hadn't gotten an answer to his inquiry. He didn't think it was that hard to answer. Ichigo either looked at him like that, or he didn't. Grimmjow opened his mouth to clarify his thoughts, when the doorbell rang, the melodic chiming echoing throughout the house. He glared towards the front door, wondering who the hell could possibly be visiting him at this hour. Grimmjow tossed a look in Ichigo's direction, but Ichigo's eyes were equally wide with surprise and focused on the door, clearly implying that he didn't know who was visiting either.

Grimmjow, already annoyed at the untimely interruption, trudged towards the door, all the while, mind moving at a mile a minute as he tried to figure out who could possibly be ringing his bell at such an hour. _It was already after eight pm_. Once he reached the door, he snatched it open, scowl wrinkling the space between his brows, but upon recognition of his brightly smiling visitor, his frown disappeared like someone had removed it with an eraser.

"Neliel!" he said, voice merely hinting at the surprise he actually felt.

His mother held her arms open and gestured for him to step into them, smile deepening and revealing cavernous dimples. "Hi, Sweetie!" she chirped. Grimmjow immediately allowed Neliel to enfold him in her arms, delighting in the scent of oatmeal raisin cookies wafting off of her. She rubbed his back a few times and stepped out of the embrace, her hands on his shoulders as she observed him. "I brought you some cookies and an apple pie," she continued.

Grimmjow felt like someone had just given him a lifetime's supply of lumber and woodcarving tools. He loved his mother's food, whether it was her baking, or regular meals, he loved it all. "What kind of cookies?" he asked, closing the door behind Neliel as she stepped into the house.

"Well," she started, setting a brown, paper bag on the floor before shrugging out of the short, yellow raincoat she wore. Grimmjow stooped to retrieve the bag as she resumed talking. "I made your favorite, of course. There's oatmeal raisin and I made sugar and chocolate chip, too."

Grimmjow brightened and grinned like a fool. "And an apple pie?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes gathering together with mirth. "Did you eat dinner already?" she asked as she hung her coat on one of the hooks near the door.

The mention of dinner brought about thoughts of the man that had cooked him said meal and who was currently watching – with widened eyes – Grimmjow and his mother from the kitchen doorway. His heart suddenly skipped a beat as he thought about introducing Neliel to Ichigo. He'd never had someone – aside from Barragan – meet his mother and he was more than wary. He was insanely overprotective when it came to Neliel.

Grimmjow had also forgotten to tell his mother that Ichigo was staying with him. He knew she wouldn't be upset with him or anything, but he also knew she would think that he was trying to hide it from her, which wasn't the case at all. "Yeah, I ate," he answered.

Neliel, with her uncanny ability to pick up on when he was uncomfortable, turned to face him and carefully studied him, her wheat-gray eyes holding a small glint of concern. Grimmjow wanted to sigh. He didn't know how the woman did it, but she always knew when something – _anything at all_ – was off with him. "What's wrong?" she asked, resting dainty hands on curvy hips.

Grimmjow shrugged shortly. "Nothing," he replied.

"Grimmjow," Neliel said, her childish voice stern.

"Nothing is wrong, Neliel. I have a house guest, that's all." Neliel's big eyes grew even wider as she whirled around to the stairs, looking for his supposed house guest. "He's in the kitchen," he grumbled and stepped past the shorter woman, shaking his head as he moved towards the room with his bag full of baked heaven.

Grimmjow could hear Neliel sputtering about why he didn't tell her sooner as she followed behind him, but all thought fled his brain when he stepped into the kitchen and came face to face with a frightened-looking Ichigo. Ichigo stood still as stone near the refrigerator as he watched the doorway, obviously waiting for Neliel to enter. Once she did, Grimmjow set his bag on the counter and turned to face the two other people in the room. His gaze bounced between them, amusement lighting his features and lending a small smirk to his lips.

Neliel stood near the door, her eyes scanning Ichigo as her mind formed an opinion of him. Neliel could tell you all about a person after just giving them a look and maybe having one conversation with him/her. She had her hands folded in front of her against her thighs and the look she was giving Ichigo had the orange-haired man holding his breath, if the lack of chest movement was any indication. Grimmjow chuckled airily, drawing their attention.

"You're making him nervous, Neliel," he stated as he turned his back to avoid the eyes on him and simultaneously dig through his bag of treasure.

"I'm sorry, dear. What's your name? My son has a tendency to forget his manners from time to time," Neliel said sweetly, making Grimmjow cringe.

_He hated when she did that_.

Grimmjow paused his digging long enough to hear Ichigo whisper his name. Peering from the corner of his eye, he noticed Neliel frown and tilt her head to the side, wisps of sea-green hair framing her face.

"What was that, honey?" she asked.

Ichigo cleared his throat and tried again, this time louder and more confident. The silence that followed made Grimmjow turn his head to the side to get a better look at his mother. Her eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline as she slowly turned to face him, making him immediately avoid her gaze and resume digging through the bag. He finally produced results when his hand curled under the edge of a plate that was covered in plastic, its contents still warm. He pulled it free from the bag and almost began salivating at the sight of his favorite cookies. Oatmeal raisin made his heart speed up and his soul soar.

He'd been so preoccupied with the cookies, he didn't notice Neliel edging closer to him, until she was right beside him, her wide, beseeching eyes filled to the brim with laughter and secrecy as she looked up at him. He almost jumped, but stifled the urge as he peeled away the plastic covering the plate of cookies and stole one, anxiously biting into it.

"Ichigo?" she asked quietly, a small smile tilting her lips upwards. Grimmjow didn't understand the nature of her smile, so he nodded, taking another large bite of his cookie. "The Ichigo who reminds you of me?" she continued, arching a green brow.

He almost swallowed his tongue in shock as he shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Ichigo. Grimmjow didn't want Ichigo to know that he compared him to Neliel. Things like that were supposed to be private and strictly between him and his mother. "Don't say that," he snapped, a frown creasing his brow.

Neliel merely smiled and turned in Ichigo's direction. "I'm sure he won't mind, Sweetie."

"That's not the point," he growled, hackles rising at the way Neliel was inching her way over to Ichigo.

Ichigo's expression was no longer afraid, but leaning more towards curious and even a bit amused. There was a light in those warm, brown eyes that gave Grimmjow a serious case of stomach butterflies as he tried to avoid them at all costs. He didn't want Ichigo to know that Neliel had rattled him like a length of chain. Grimmjow opened his mouth to stop his mother from saying anything else that might put him in the spotlight, but he had the misfortune to catch a devilish smirk stealing across Ichigo's face. He snapped his mouth shut and glared at the orange-haired man that had suddenly given Neliel his full attention.

Grimmjow didn't like the look on Ichigo's face one little bit. It screamed sneaky toddler – which Grimmjow had had the mischance of experiencing at the hands of Barragan's neighbor's children – and Grimmjow was astonished at the way Ichigo had so quickly adjusted to the situation at hand. His skin prickled and seemed to crawl right off his flesh as he watched Neliel place a hand on Ichigo's right arm.

"Grimmjow has told me a lot about you, Ichigo. He really speaks highly of you, which I'm sure you can tell is a pretty big deal," Neliel said softly, her eyes sincere.

Grimmjow gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. He felt like he was naked and exposed in a room full of strange women. "Neliel," he warned.

She didn't even pay him any mind as she continued talking to Ichigo, who was watching her avidly, honey-brown eyes wide with what Grimmjow could only describe as admiration. "He's always been a little different, so it's very relieving to see someone that understands him."

Grimmjow's face grew hot as his embarrassment steadily increased. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides after devouring the rest of the cookie he'd been eating, the oatmeal raisin mixture sticking in his throat. There were no words powerful enough to describe just how angry he was. He couldn't understand his mother's need to talk to Ichigo about things that just weren't his business.

Ichigo nodded at Neliel and covered the hand she had resting on his arm with his own. "I know. I'm hoping Grimmjow will be able to call me his friend one of these days," he said with a charming smile and a little of the mortification Grimmjow had been feeling was chipped away.

Grimmjow hadn't been expecting to hear that. He had prepared himself to be the brunt of whatever joke Ichigo would have had in store for him, but instead the intriguing man had blown him away. No one had ever wanted to be his friend. Women wanted to have sex with him, men didn't like him at all and most times found him "freaky", but Ichigo wanted to be his friend. Grimmjow stared helplessly at the teacher, his face hot for an entirely different reason now. The feeling coursing through his system was intensely alien, but he found he didn't exactly despise it.

Ichigo glanced up at him and smiled when their eyes met briefly. Grimmjow directed his gaze to the floor, but not before frowning in confusion. _But why did Ichigo want to be his friend? Was he just saying that in front of Neliel? Was he secretly making fun of Grimmjow?_ His breathing picked up, until it felt like he was about to hyperventilate. He hadn't been this unsure of himself since he was in high school and he couldn't take it. His lungs seemed to burn as he tried to catch his breath.

Then, Ichigo said three words that washed over him like a soothing balm.

"I like him."

Grimmjow's head whipped up immediately, his heart beating strongly. Ichigo gave him a crooked smile that made his stomach flip and his heart stall. Neliel smiled up at Ichigo, absently patting his arm, but Ichigo never looked away from Grimmjow. Grimmjow held eye contact for as long as he could stand it, trying to decipher whether Ichigo was being truthful. What he found in the depths of those abysmal, sable brown eyes was honesty and a sincerity he hadn't encountered in anyone outside of his mother and Barragan. Lowering his eyes to the floor again, he cracked the barest of grins.

_Despite the unsolved issue of their earlier discussion, he liked the idea of being Ichigo's friend_. _Maybe this encounter with Neliel wouldn't be so bad_.

"Oh! Ichigo, would you like to see Grimmjow as a baby? I have a few pictures in my purse," Neliel chimed, digging through the aforementioned bag.

Grimmjow's head came up, his eyes widening in horror as he reached a hand out towards his doting mother. "Neliel, NO!" he shouted, Ichigo's cackle echoing in the kitchen.

"Sure, I'd love to see Grimmjow as a baby," the orange-haired man replied, the devilish gleam back in his eyes.

_On second thought, maybe he needed to tie Neliel to a chair and tape her mouth shut before she caused anymore damage_.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

_"I like him."_

Grimmjow couldn't stop thinking about that statement and how easily Ichigo had made it, even though Neliel currently had an entire photo album containing his childhood laid across the kitchen table. He grimaced as he shot a quick glance at the laughing orange-haired teacher. Could Ichigo laugh any harder? And Neliel. Grimmjow planned to have a few stern words with his mother when Ichigo wasn't around. He couldn't believe she'd brought that embarrassing thing out.

"Ahaha! And then he fell and got mad when the ground didn't apologize!" Neliel explained through melodic laughter.

Grimmjow growled and reached for a sugar cookie, tossing a dark glare at the green-haired woman he claimed as his mother. He didn't think they'd heard him, but when he shifted his gaze, he locked eyes with Ichigo who was hardly suppressing a grin.

"Really? Imagine that," Ichigo muttered, lowering his warm, amused brown eyes to the photo album. "This is a nice one," he continued, pointing at a picture on the corner of the page.

Neliel surveyed the photo, her giggles subsiding, but a soft grin remaining. "This was Grimmy's sixth birthday. I'd just taught him how to ride his bike without the training wheels. He was so proud."

Grimmjow remembered that picture. He had been wearing the outfit Neliel had bought him for his special day and he'd been determined to ride his red bike without the training wheels like a few of his other friends had been doing. It had taken nearly the whole day, but he'd finally managed it with Neliel's soothing and gentle encouragement.

"Grimmjow, you were a cute kid," Ichigo said.

Grimmjow frowned, shrugging. He didn't think so. He stole a glance at Ichigo to find the teacher giving him a happy, lop-sided grin. What was he supposed to say?

"So, Ichigo, how did you meet my son?" Neliel asked, making Grimmjow's heart lurch. He didn't want to talk about Ichigo's old roommate.

Ichigo rubbed the tip of his nose and briefly flattened his lips into a thin line. "I, uh, well, it was through a job he had done on...on my old home. Er, he added a wrap-around porch and that's how we met," he stuttered, words tripping over one another he spoke so quickly.

Neliel arched a brow, but didn't comment on the orange-haired man's apparent discomfort. "I hope he behaved himself," she said, turning to give Grimmjow a disapproving glare.

Grimmjow slouched his shoulders and frowned as he studied his hands. He hated when his mother made him seem like an unruly little kid. He was far from one.

"Things started off kind of rough, but they ended up OK. He really helped me out."

Grimmjow glanced at Ichigo, wondering what expression the man was wearing. He despised the fact that he couldn't tell what Ichigo was thinking when he said things like that. He didn't have the ability to derive what emotions lay underneath the words. When he focused on Ichigo's face, he felt like the teacher's maple brown eyes were drilling a hole right through him. Shifting uneasily, he averted his eyes and gave his attention to the floor, something less threatening. Thankfully, Neliel spoke into the silence.

"I'm glad. I try to encourage Grimmy -"

"Neliel."

He hated that name and he certainly wasn't about to sit idly by while Neliel addressed him or referred to him as such.

"I try to encourage Grimmjow to make more friends," Neliel amended with a long-suffering sigh. "I know it's hard for him, but nothing worth having is ever easily acquired. My mother once told me that, kami rest her soul."

Grimmjow peered at Ichigo from the corner of his eye and noticed him nodding his head sagely, as if he had come up with the adage himself.

"That's true, but I think Grimmjow just enjoys his privacy and routine more."

Grimmjow froze, his hands resting in his lap as he stared at the floor in shock. No one had ever been able to grasp his personality so quickly and it unnerved him. It was a thrilling feeling, scary but exciting. He darted a look in Ichigo's direction, almost afraid of what he would find. When his eyes did find the orange-haired man, his lungs seemed to empty as his chest tightened. Ichigo's looks seemed to grow more and more intense as the night stretched on, like the man was trying to see through Grimmjow to his soul.

Heart pounding, Grimmjow avoided those piercing brown orbs. "I don't like change," he grunted. He was ashamed to find that his hands were slightly trembling as he pushed them through his hair.

"I understand that, Sweety, but-" Neliel started.

"I don't like change!" Grimmjow interrupted, surging to his feet, eyes wild but rooted to the floor. "I don't like it! I don't need friends if I have to change my life for them!"

He wouldn't point out the change Ichigo had brought to his life because if he was honest, Ichigo hadn't changed his routine much and then not at all once Grimmjow had explained things to him. It was a difficult situation to describe, but Grimmjow knew they were different. He couldn't meet anyone's eyes, although he could feel them all over him making his skin crawl. He needed some time alone.

He left the room and stomped up the stairs to his bedroom, where he closed and locked the door. He didn't feel like talking and he was still extremely upset.

**XxX**

Ichigo stared at the space Grimmjow had formerly been standing, feeling confused but at the same time, he knew perfectly what had just happened. He hated that he made Grimmjow upset, and definitely didn't like the panic that seemed to creep in the other man's smooth, firm voice. What could he do?

Nothing. Nothing, yet. So he flicked his eyes to Neliel, who had a playful grin stretching her lips. He gave her a light smile in return. She waved her hand dismissively. "I take it you know he does that sometimes, by the way you're so nonchalant about it."

Shrugging and rolling his shoulders in the process, Ichigo turned to face her fully, taking in her big, opaque eyes that seemed so wise, despite her youthful nature. Ichigo knew that whatever happened in the future, he and Neliel would be close. In a few ways, she reminded him of his own mother before her death. It made him feel nostalgic for his own home, his own family despite the pain of estrangement that came with remembering them.

"We get along," Ichigo grunted, feeling insecure with the lingering gaze as he moved around the room, adjusting things like he was some pathetic house wife. "I really do appreciate what he's done for me. I didn't want to go back home, not when I'm twenty-three. It would have been… embarrassing, to say the least."

Neliel gave him a radiant smile, coming over to lay a small hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Grimmjow likes your company. He doesn't take well to others, usually. I was so happy when he told me about you. You're a good person, Ichigo. I can feel it."

Something swelled inside Ichigo then, as he looked over her face for anything to make him doubt her words. He couldn't find anything other than happiness and a certain kind of sweetness that hovered around her frame.

He placed his hand around hers, curled it and enjoyed the slight difference of their skin tone. "Thank you."

She left the conversation at that, pulling back to clap her hands. "How about I make some tea? Would you like to help me?"

Blushing slightly, Ichigo nodded, following her practically skipping figure to their –Grimmjow's kitchen. This wasn't his home, and it was a silly thought to think that anything inside of it also belonged to Ichigo. It was only a matter of time before he was on his feet again, leaving this quiet house. It was a sudden thought that struck him, made him pause in the door frame and frown. Neliel didn't notice, pulling out a tea pot and getting to work.

How long was he going to be able to stay in this house? Ichigo had no idea. Would Grimmjow get sick of him if he stuck around too long, interrupting his routine? Ichigo felt a hollowness pool into his stomach. After what happened with Byakuya, he felt so distraught and insecure, as if he wasn't before. It was multiplied now, always in the back of his mind. He cursed himself and his feelings.

"Are you alright?" Neliel asked quietly, wiping her hands on a dish towel before pulling her lovely, sea foam hair back into a loose bun. "You seem lost, somehow."

Ichigo shook his head, attempting a halfhearted grin to placate her. He needed to keep his thoughts off his face. He tapped his forehead gently. "Just thinking."

"You do that a lot?" Neliel chuckled, reaching into the finely carved cabinets for tea bags. Ichigo could see her eyes widen at the plethora of brands and kinds of tea she found, and couldn't stop a laugh from bubbling up.

"They're mine, mostly. Tea soothes my soul."

"Mm," Neliel hummed softly, going back to her task at hand. Ichigo leaned on the counter, noting that he wasn't actually helping her in any way. It was so relaxing, though, to simply watch her bustle around the kitchen, getting mugs and arranging things.

More and more, Ichigo felt the draw to go home to his own family. His father certainly wasn't domestic. Not in _any_ way. That role fell to his sister after their mother died. Yuzu enjoyed cooking, cleaning, anything to make another happy.

He hoped Grimmjow would go with him. It was a lot to ask the other man, really, when all Grimmjow had been doing was helping him. He thought they had become pretty good friends now, and deep down, he would love for the twins to meet the stoic carpenter. He figured Karin especially would get along with him.

With a small sigh, he was just about to tell Neliel it was getting late, when the sound of footsteps stopped him from opening his mouth. Instead his eyes were trained on Grimmjow's larger figure coming down the steps, his lips set in a firm line.

Ichigo held his breath, unsure of what was going to happen.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow entered the kitchen, eyes on the floor. He had his mind on a glass of water before going to bed, but the pressing silence around him made him pause. The atmosphere felt tense, like Ichigo and Neliel were waiting for him to explode or something. He wasn't a wild animal, or even a bomb ready to detonate. Yes, he had moments where he lost control of his emotions, but they rarely ever lasted long.

He moved to the refrigerator after grabbing a glass from the dish drainer, then filled the cup with water. As he slowly drank, he allowed his gaze to land on the others in the room. He cringed when he realized that both were watching him carefully, the piercing eyes making him lower his own to the floor. Was he supposed to say something? Was he supposed to do something? He was used to Neliel's wheat-gray eyes assessing him like a puzzle, but that same gaze coming from the orange-haired teacher was enough to send his stomach into an uproar. Did Ichigo think he was crazy now? The way the man sliced at him with his warm brown eyes made him think so. He shifted his weight and set the now empty glass on the counter beside the refrigerator. After plowing a hand through his hair, he mustered the courage to look up and focus just past Neliel's shoulder.

"Why are you two looking at me like that?" he asked quietly.

Out of his peripheral, he noticed the teacher jump before hesitantly shrugging. "We just thought you had something to say."

"Why would I?"

Neliel interrupted the conversation with a sigh. "Grimmjow, don't be rude."

He frowned and turned his attention to his mother. "I'm not being rude; I just asked a question."

"And it was very rude. You have to be careful of the things you say."

Grimmjow didn't get it. He'd just asked a simple question. Nothing too serious, in his opinion, but his reward was being accused of rudeness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.

It wasn't a delay tactic, or a defense mechanism as he'd heard mentioned before. He was completely serious; he really had no idea what made his question "rude."

"Grimmjow, in this case, one would expect you to apologize for your earlier behavior," Neliel stated.

Again, he didn't get it. Why was he supposed to apologize? Why had his behavior been perceived as "rude?" But, for the sake of keeping the peace, he hung his head and grumbled through an apology.

"I'm sorry."

Ichigo's laughter surprised him and made his head abruptly come up. Grimmjow expected to see mockery in the man's expression, but what he found was genuine amusement.

"I didn't mean to laugh," the teacher started. "But you just remind me so much of the kids I work with."

"I'm not a kid!" Grimmjow snapped, lips forming a tight ball.

"I didn't say you were. I said you remind me of them. There's no need to be so high-strung. I'm your friend, right?"

And there it was. He hadn't expected Ichigo to ask him something like that. Sure, the guy had mentioned it earlier, but hearing the phrase actually directed at him seemed a thousand times more intimidating. Was the orange-haired man really his friend? What was a friend, anyway? He'd never really had one and if he had, he'd never analyzed the concept long enough to consider a person such. Instead of giving an answer, he grunted, unsure of what he should say to begin with. He studiously avoided Ichigo's searing gaze; the man was making his insides crawl with apprehension.

"I'm going to bed," he said, but to keep from being accused of rudeness again, he added, "Good night."

With that, he left the kitchen and slowly climbed the stairs to the upper level of the house. He didn't understand what was going on and a strange feeling made his stomach leaden. He couldn't recognize it, so he tried to put it to the side, but it wasn't working. It was like the feeling knew he was trying his hardest to ignore it, so it persisted. He growled as he entered his room and shut the door. He trudged to the bed and flopped onto his back before throwing an arm over his face. He'd caught the teacher's expression before leaving the kitchen and maybe that was what was causing the discomfort rolling around in his gut. There had been a distinctly sad look on Ichigo's face, those warm brown eyes dulled. But why? Was it _his_ fault? Had he really been rude and hadn't realized it?

He lay in bed, listening to the sounds of the house. He knew the exact moment Neliel left, as well as when Ichigo made his way upstairs to his own room. After that, silence reigned. However...Grimmjow found it impossible to fall asleep. Every time he thought about the orange-haired man resting just in the other room, that feeling in his stomach grew stronger. It wasn't like he didn't try to keep his mind from traveling to the other man, but for some reason, it kept going there on its own. First, he wondered why Ichigo had appeared so sad, then he wondered if the man had gone to sleep yet. He'd been in his room quietly for about two hours now, so there was the possibility that he had indeed fallen asleep. The blue-haired carpenter tossed and turned for a few more minutes before flinging aside the covers and agitatedly climbing to his feet. He stared at his room door for a bit before deciding to find out why Ichigo had looked so down. Only way to do that would be going to the man's room and asking him straight-out, which was what he normally did. Except now, Neliel's words echoed loudly in his mind.

He fluffed his hair in annoyance, sending it every which way before he sucked his teeth and cursed. If he didn't find out what had been wrong with the teacher, he wouldn't be able to get any sleep that night and that was unacceptable. He stormed to the door, threw it open and crossed the hall. He stood in front of Ichigo's room, chest heaving as his breathing grew harsh with his uncertainty. He hated not knowing what to do; it made him feel weak and helpless. He posted up before the door for only a few minutes longer before deciding not to bother with knocking and instead going for the knob. The door pushed open easily and light from the moon spilled across the floor. Grimmjow peered into the darkness, quickly spotting Ichigo sprawled on his bed. He lay on his back, wearing a pair of dark boxers, one hand on his privates and the other tossed casually behind his head. He snored softly, which alerted Grimmjow to his unconscious state.

Disappointed, he started to leave the room, when the moon seemed to catch the teacher's hair and make the bright orange strands glow. Captivated, all he could do was stand in the doorway and stare. He'd always been fascinated with Ichigo's hair – mostly the man's warm brown eyes. His hair was nice too, though. He eased a few more steps into the room and quietly shut the door. He didn't know what he planned to do exactly, but he quite enjoyed watching Ichigo sleeping. He could study him without fear of those piercing eyes drilling into him and stealing his courage. He didn't have to worry about the curious man asking him just why he was looking at him the way he was. He was absolutely free to let his eyes wander, travel, analyze and absorb. It was a calming feeling.

Grimmjow made his way to the other side of Ichigo's room, where the moon entered the window and gave him a better view of the man's angular jaw. The teacher's normally scowling face was relaxed, calm in his slumber. Almost innocent. Grimmjow perched on the dresser next to the window and tilted his head to the side. Ichigo had just shifted on the bed a bit, the hand over his privates lifting and sliding under the waistband of his boxers. What was the orange-haired man up to? Did he realize he was touching himself in his sleep? It confused Grimmjow. However, when Ichigo shifted again, this time licking his lips and sighing deeply, Grimmjow rose from his spot. He'd been there for longer than he'd intended and he really didn't want the other man to wake up and yell at him for being in his room without his express permission. He hated when Ichigo got mad at him.

After another long look, he silently made his way back to the door, where he slipped around it and returned to his own bedroom. Once there, he climbed into bed and tucked himself around the extra pillow he kept. He wouldn't be able to sleep. His stomach kept doing the strangest things when he thought about the orange-haired teacher. When he looked at him, when he imagined those kind brown eyes on him, Ichigo's deep and soothing voice: they all made him feel like he'd swallowed something hot and solid. Not to mention, he hadn't been able to get the answers he wanted from the man. Sighing and tossing uncomfortably onto his back, Grimmjow grunted. What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to wake Ichigo. He'd done that before and it hadn't been the best experience in the world. But...he wanted to know. He needed to know. Why had the man seemed so sad when Grimmjow had left the kitchen? And did he really consider himself a friend?

Grimmjow growled under his breath and rested his hand on his left thigh. The carefree positioning made him think of what he'd just seen in Ichigo's room, so he decided to imitate it. He slowly slid his hand under the waistline of his pajama pants and let it settle there. He didn't quite touch himself, but strangely, having his hand there felt nice. Comfortable. He closed his eyes and turned his head towards the window in his room. The moon was bright and a nice breeze stirred the curtains. As he stared at the stars and the smokey-looking clouds drifting by, his eyelids gradually blinked shut, allowing him the rest he had been certain he wouldn't find.

**XxxxxxX**

The next morning found him seated on the kitchen counter, as was his usual. He sipped a glass of orange juice and stared out of the window, mind still busy wondering what had been Ichigo's problem. He had a mind to ask him when he came down for his morning tea, but then again, would the man even remember? Would he be willing to answer? Grimmjow was starting to realize that Ichigo didn't like to answer some questions; he considered them "private." So, how should he go about finding out what he wanted to know? It would only continue to plague him if he didn't find a solution soon.

Shuffling steps alerted him to the orange-haired teacher's presence in the kitchen. Ichigo slid to the stove for the teakettle, brown eyes still almost glued shut. Then he made his way to the sink beside Grimmjow, where he finally glanced in his direction and grunted a quiet "good morning."

"Morning," Grimmjow responded.

He was able to watch Ichigo without fear of being noticed, since in the mornings, the man was barely conscious. The teacher wore a short-sleeved white t-shirt over a dark pair of pajama pants and his feet were bare. His hair was sticking up on his head, spiky and fiercely rebellious. Grimmjow grinned. Ichigo made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

A sudden thought occurred to him, making him clear his throat before speaking to the teacher. "I'll go," he stated firmly.

Ichigo shot him a quick, confused look. "What? Go where?"

"To meet your family," Grimmjow answered.

The orange-haired man's eyebrows shot to the roof as his mouth opened and closed a few times. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded. "O-OK. Good. That's good."

His resulting smile almost made Grimmjow crack one in return. Although he hadn't gotten all the answers he wanted, seeing Ichigo's warm grin was enough to make him momentarily forget about it.

**XxX**

Outwardly, Ichigo was somewhat calm and composed at Grimmjow almost casually mentioning that he would take him to see his family, but on the inside, it felt like his insides had liquefied. Warmth spread throughout Ichigo's body at the thought that Grimmjow would do something for him, something so personal and important.

He knew he was definitely blushing as he went about his morning routine, suddenly much more awake. The way he made tea was mechanical, his brain not giving any necessary function to the task at hand, his mind racing and his heart thumping in his ribcage.

_I'll go._

So simple. Two little words that sent his body into complete disarray. What was he, a fourteen year old girl? Ichigo took deep, soothing breaths, hoping Grimmjow wouldn't notice his erratic behavior and sighed happily when he finally poured himself a nice, steaming cup of tea.

He looked up, noticing Grimmjow looking pensive. "Thank you." His voice sounded too mousy to his ears, but he knew he should say it. Going home had been something he'd wanted for a while, and now he was getting his wish, and also getting to spend more time with the carpenter.

Grimmjow merely nodded, cracking an unusually soft smile in Ichigo's direction.

Ichigo's heart melted a little at the sight. Grimmjow was just too adorable sometimes. He was volatile, yes, but his gentler actions made up for the outbursts.

Ichigo leaned against a cabinet, gazing down into his mug and chewing on his lip. "I really like your mother, Grimmjow. She's a nice person." He almost held his breath for fear of the reaction, but he thought he should let Grimmjow know. Ichigo had lost his own mother, so it was a different experience to be around Neliel. She seemed like the complete opposite of Grimmjow and yet somehow complemented him perfectly; she also seemed to be able to understand the stoic man as well.

"She is," Grimmjow conceded, before jumping down from his perch. "When you wanna go see your family?"

Ichigo told himself not to be disappointed that Grimmjow diverted the conversation he wanted to have. "I'll let you know this afternoon, if that's alright. Most likely next weekend?"

Grimmjow murmured a soft grunt before exiting the kitchen, leaving Ichigo with mixed feelings on how this upcoming trip was going to pan out. He hoped he wasn't putting Grimmjow in too much of an uncomfortable situation, but at the same time, he yearned to see his sisters.

Ichigo sighed, downing the rest of his tea and going back upstairs to get ready for work.

**Yes, this was a little short, but Selphie and I are in the process of brushing the dust off of this one. We've both been busy. You know, real life and such...**

**Anyway, now that things are slowing down on both our ends, we plan to pick back up with this fic. Thanks to those of you still reading and inquiring about it, but please remember, this is a collaborative effort and we're both human beings with lives outside of this fan fiction world. **

**Next time...**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8  
**

**Disclaimer: **We do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

**XxxX**

The week seemed to fly and go at the pace of a snail all at the same time. Ichigo kept busy with school, but his thoughts were constantly littered with apprehension about the trip to his father's house. The drive was at least two hours. Two hours and odd minutes with Grimmjow. Alone. They were going to leave early tomorrow morning and it loomed closer by the second.

Ichigo buried himself in his sheets at the thought, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. It was early in the morning, probably only five at the most. He didn't want to get up yet, but he couldn't sleep, either. He worried his lower lip, getting out of his cozy, little cocoon to look out the window. Rain gently cascaded down the glass, creating a blurry outside world to his eyes. Absently, he pressed his finger tips to the window, trailing a stray rain drop before it pooled off out of sight. He supposed he should be up and about, trying to get ready for work. Instead, he felt sluggish and drowsy, yet not quite tired.

"This is ridiculous," Ichigo murmured, stretching out his limbs, enjoying the satisfied sound of his bones cracking.

He was just a ball of nervous energy. The more he tried not to think about being with Grimmjow for such a length of time, his brain kept bringing him right back. Letting out a small sigh, he went about the task of making himself look decent, which basically consisted of taming his mane of hair that was currently sticking up like a cactus. After he achieved that small feat, he clambered down the steps in search of tea. Surprisingly he found Grimmjow at his usual spot, even though it was still pretty early.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ichigo tried hesitantly, reaching for his tea cup.

He saw Grimmjow shrug slightly. "Yes. Something like that."

Ichigo smiled slightly, humming when the water came to a boil. "I'm almost never up this early."

Grimmjow nodded, his eyebrow quirking up. "I've noticed."

Ichigo chuckled to himself. "Well, I've always been like that. Dead to the world when I was younger until one of my sisters woke me up. Usually Karin. She'd kick me awake."

Grimmjow looked somewhat startled, his too blue eyes wide in confusion. "She would?"

Breaking into full out laughter and pointedly ignoring the heat piling into his stomach at Grimmjow's curious expression, Ichigo easily elaborated. "Yeah, _oh_ yeah, she was always a tomboy. Loved knocking me around and smacking me, just like my dad. My other sister, Yuzu, is the exact opposite, totally like my mother. Sweet and innocent."

"Your dad smacks you around?" Grimmjow asked disapprovingly, the wide eyed expression narrowing into one that seemed almost reminiscent of anger.

Ichigo grinned and leaned back against the counter, lost in memories of his childhood. "Not like that, not really. He always said it was to teach me to be a man. Mostly he just stumbled around like an idiot, surprise attacking me. I have great reflexes because of it."

When Grimmjow didn't say anything in return, Ichigo figured he'd offended the man by talking so much, so he clammed up and sipped his tea, inhaling the sweet aroma.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Grimmjow spoke again. "What's your dad like?"

A small frown wormed its way onto Ichigo's lips. He loved his father, but they never seemed to see eye to eye. "He's uh..." He rubbed at his neck out of habit, fingers curling into his hair. "He cares a lot; he tries really hard for my sisters. We don't get along much anymore. He doesn't like the way I 'live'."

"He doesn't like that you're homosexual?" Grimmjow questioned.

Ichigo shrugged. "Kind of. I think he's disappointed in me, that I won't give him heirs or have any grandchildren. Who knows."

Grimmjow nodded, jumping off the counter and right into Ichigo's personal space. Ichigo blinked, heart beginning to pound in its cage.

"My mother always told me it was okay to be who you are, whether you like men or women, and there's nothing wrong with that."

With that, Grimmjow left the kitchen, muscles flexing in the soft light filtering in from the windows. Ichigo felt his face heat up and his stomach twist into knots. Grimmjow was just too inhumanly attractive to not be affected. For the few moments it took Ichigo to calm down, he cursed the fact that Grimmjow enjoyed walking around the house half naked, just those old jeans to cover his toned legs. It was definitely both a curse and a blessing. Along with the man's physical attraction, Ichigo could definitely feel something else, now. He liked Grimmjow in other ways, and it was getting to him. The man was kind despite his gruff exterior, and so smart, generous, and beyond fascinating.

At least Ichigo had work as a distraction from his infatuation.

But first, he had to get something off his chest. He followed the path Grimmjow had left, opening the door to see the man lifting things from his truck. The rain was slowing down to sprinkles, but Ichigo knew Grimmjow couldn't work. He was probably unloading to make room for their luggage. Grimmjow seemed engulfed in what he was doing, as usual, and Ichigo immediately felt like he was imposing. Before he could make a quiet retreat, however, Grimmjow focused a stare in his direction, holding up a hammer in his right hand and a tool box on his shoulder. His abdominal muscles tensed with exertion, entrancing Ichigo immediately.

"What?" Grimmjow barked, though it lacked any heat.

Like a spell broken, Ichigo snapped his eyes away.

He was such an idiot.

"I just wanted to tell you before I left, um, y'know, you don't _have _to do this for me. I appreciate it very much, but I don't want to put you in… that is to say, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. You've been so gracious toward me, and I can understand what I'm asking is a lot." He bit his lip and hoped he wasn't making it seem like Grimmjow was weak or couldn't handle it.

"Do you want me to go?"

"Well, yes."

Grimmjow nodded. "Then, I'm going."

Ichigo nodded in return, a wiry smile playing on his lips, excitement bubbling in his chest.

He left Grimmjow to his work, and went to get ready for his last day of kindergarten until Monday.

**XxX**

"Are you nervous?" Shinji practically purred into his ear, cradling Hyori in his arms.

They were standing outside the school, watching eager parents pick up their children. Shinji was one of his best friends, but sometimes Ichigo really wanted to hit him.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, Shin," Ichigo practically growled, knowing what the blond was referring to.

"Oh, sure there isn't, pardon me." Shinji rolled his eyes sarcastically. "You two in one truck for two plus hours, when you have a massive-"

"Shinji!"

The blond held up one hand mischievously. "_Crush_ is the word I'd use. But if you keep lying to yourself, and that gets you by, be my guest."

Shinji grinned at him, stroking Hiyori's golden pigtails fondly. She was sound asleep in his arms, little thumb pressed gently against her bottom lip. It was a cute sight.

"You better take her home before I hit you," Ichigo deadpanned, ignoring Shinji's cackling even as the blond walked away, throwing up a hand.

Ichigo snorted and turned back, making sure every child had left. Once that task was complete, he went back to his classroom and grabbed his bag, mulling over what his less than mature friend had unknowingly imparted on him. Ichigo definitely wasn't lying to himself. The attraction, the _want_, was definitely there. The only problem was that it was completely one-sided. Sure, Ichigo knew Grimmjow wasn't offended by his preference, but the man made no inclination of his own. Ichigo only assumed he was straight, but he had never actually mustered up the courage to ask, while Grimmjow, on the other hand, knew his most tightly guarded secret.

And even if Grimmjow _was_ gay, it wasn't like things would be different. Grimmjow wouldn't want him. Byakuya certainly hadn't. Ichigo briefly wondered if that woman made the stoic man happy. With a bitterness that surprised him, he wished she didn't.

Ichigo closed his eyes, already shaking those thoughts away. He had been down that path too many times these last few months, had gone through too many bottles, and been in Gin's bed far too often.

Speaking of which, that really had to stop. He wasn't sure how it had started, really. Gin was a prevailing force in his life, letting him use his body and, after a while, his mind. He could tell Gin anything, and the man would just listen and smile, and sometimes if he felt like it, offer his two cents. It was a relationship Ichigo was _comfortable_ with, but nothing serious. Gin already had a lover, and Ichigo didn't need that mess.

He yawned quietly, waiting for the bus.

Tomorrow was the day.

**XxX**

It felt like Ichigo hadn't slept at all last night, despite going to bed around seven. Grimmjow loaded the truck with their few possessions, while Ichigo made them a quick, simple breakfast. They were on the road in less than an hour.

While Grimmjow drove, Ichigo lay his head against the window, drowsy and anxious at the same time. He kept sneaking little glances in Grimmjow's direction, hoping to find a way to start a conversation, but not sure what to really say. Eventually he found his courage, smiling slightly.

"When you meet my dad, you might have to fight him off."

Grimmjow frowned, eyes trained on the road. "You know I don't like people touching me."

Ichigo grinned. "I know, just stay behind me. I'll take him for you."

Grimmjow snorted. "I'm not a woman, Ichigo."

Groaning internally, Ichigo shook his head. "No, I know that."

He remembered the first time Grimmjow had gotten angry, back when they had barely known each other. It was a scary sight, and he didn't want his father or Grimmjow in that situation. Ichigo knew Isshin could handle almost anything, but he also knew his dad was a hot head. Ichigo supposed he'd just have to be quick to intervene if things got out of hand, while also being careful _not_ to treat Grimmjow like the child he definitely wasn't.

They were left in amicable silence from then on. Ichigo was enjoying the scenery passing by, all the farm lands and trees painting the landscape. He'd always loved where he'd grown up. The rain had passed, and now it was just a clear, blue sky, only a few clouds scattered here and there. Before long, he realized they were getting very close, and guessed in another fifteen minutes, he'd get to see his sister's ecstatic faces.

His smile felt like it was etched on.

XOXOXO

He was nervous. After everything Ichigo had said to him about his father, Grimmjow wasn't sure how he should handle the man. Neliel had told him first impressions were extremely important, so he was determined to make a good one, but most times, his best efforts simply weren't good enough. He always managed to offend someone, or hurt someone's feelings. He hoped that wouldn't be the case with Ichigo's apparently eccentric and overly aggressive father.

They were on their way to the home where Ichigo had been raised, and the interior of the truck had gone uncomfortably silent. Well, at least for him. Grimmjow normally had no problem with the quiet, but he'd grown accustomed to the orange-haired teacher's curious questions filling the emptiness. Hence, Ichigo's closed-mouth behavior at the moment made Grimmjow a bit nervous. More nervous than he should've been, actually. He kept sending Ichigo sideways glances, but the man's posture never changed. Ichigo was pressed against the window, hands resting loosely in his lap as maple-brown eyes peered through the glass. Bright orange hair danced and reflected the sun's glowing rays. Grimmjow sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Looking at Ichigo always made him feel warm inside, made his gut light and fluttery.

But why?

The teacher was kind and friendly. His smile was nice, his eyes nearly hypnotizing. Grimmjow still wasn't comfortable with prolonged moments of eye contact, but he found himself looking into Ichigo's nut-brown gaze more and more often. It only lasted a few seconds at a time, but the fact that Grimmjow noticed the frequency, spoke of its importance. Ichigo was also a very curious man. He was always inquiring about Grimmjow's past, interests, Neliel – the list went on. The strangest part, though, was how Grimmjow no longer grew agitated about it. He liked listening to Ichigo's voice, especially after a long day at work. It soothed and calmed him in ways his woodcarving and a beer at his favorite bar couldn't.

The landscape flew past as the drive stretched on. According to Grimmjow's watch, it'd been a good hour and forty-five minutes since they'd left his home. They should be arriving soon. Ichigo had informed him it would only take two hours, which wasn't as bad as Grimmjow had first assumed from the way Ichigo had skirted around the issue. Grimmjow glanced over at the other man again. He was trying to come up with something to ask, when it dawned on him that he'd never figured out just _why_ Ichigo had appeared so sad the night Neliel had come to visit. The night Neliel had thoroughly humiliated Grimmjow with all those pictures of his younger days. He still had to have a serious discussion with his mother about that, but until then...

"Ichigo," he said.

He must've scared the orange-haired man because Ichigo jumped, his head jerking away from the window and turning in Grimmjow's direction, brown eyes wide and a little confused.

"Huh?"

"Why did you look sad when I left the kitchen?"

Ichigo frowned, the confusion in his face escalating. "When you left the kitchen? Uh, when exactly...are you, uh...talking-"

Grimmjow sent him a cursory glance as he interrupted. "When Neliel came to visit. The last time I left the kitchen, you looked sad. Did I do something to upset you?"

"I wasn't-" Ichigo started, then trailed off into silence. The quiet stretched on for some time before he spoke again. "Do you want me to be totally honest?" he asked, tone cautious.

Grimmjow nodded. Of course, he wanted Ichigo's complete honesty; he wouldn't settle for less. "Yes. I don't like lies."

Ichigo nodded and ran a hand through his hair. What Grimmjow found interesting, however, was the tinge of pink running across the bridge of Ichigo's straight nose.

"I wasn't sad. I was just, uh...a little disappointed."

"Why?" Grimmjow asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"Do you remember what I'd asked you right before you left the kitchen?" Ichigo returned, carefully meeting Grimmjow's alternating glances.

What had Ichigo asked him? Grimmjow filed through his brain, bringing that night back into focus. He remembered disagreeing with Neliel about being rude, and he remembered Ichigo saying Grimmjow's behavior had reminded him of the children in his class. He also remembered being upset about it and snapping at Ichigo.

Then, it hit him.

"You asked if you were my friend," he said quietly.

Grimmjow caught Ichigo's nod from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, and you didn't answer. You just said you were going to bed."

The following silence devoured the cab of the pickup truck as Grimmjow went over Ichigo's words in his head. He found himself feeling guilty, which rarely happened. But he also wanted to know if Ichigo really wanted to be friends, or if maybe it was just an offhanded gesture for the other man. Grimmjow couldn't really say he had friends. Did Rangiku count?

"I'm sorry," he said.

His current mood almost made the words come out a low mumble, but he refused to wallow in guilt. He glanced at Ichigo, who was staring back like Grimmjow had just burst into flame.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Grimmjow continued, eyes back on the road. "I just don't know how to have a friend, Ichigo."

More silence.

Finally, Ichigo cleared his throat and asked, "You've never had a friend before?"

"No. I offend or hurt people too easily. They call me a weird or mean bastard." Grimmjow shrugged, even as a lump formed in his throat. "And change is hard for me; I don't like it. But people don't seem to get that about me."

"That's not right," Ichigo muttered.

Grimmjow didn't know how to respond to that, so he thought of something else to say. He just hoped Ichigo was being truthful about being friends with him.

"I want to try," he said.

Ichigo looked at him, orange eyebrows arched in surprise. "You do?"

"I don't have to change with you; _you_ understand. And I like your eyes. You ask a lot of questions, and even though it bothered me at first, I don't mind it now. I like hearing your voice. And you're kind. You remind me of Neliel a lot."

The following stretch of silence was taut, but Grimmjow didn't understand why. It sort of felt like Ichigo was mad at him for what he'd revealed. Then, Grimmjow sent the other man a brief glance and was stunned at what he found. Ichigo was staring at him, brown eyes wide, full lips parted, and tanned face flushed, making fawn-colored freckles stand out along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. It was an enchanting sight, and Grimmjow almost found it too hard to look away.

"I, uh...I just... Wow. I don't know what to say, Grimmjow. Heh," Ichigo chuckled. "That's probably the nicest thing someone's ever said to me."

Pride and smug satisfaction coursed through Grimmjow as he focused on the road. This was much better. He _enjoyed_ making Ichigo happy; he _enjoyed_ being the reason for the man's warm smile. Ecstatic butterflies erupted into flight in his gut, and it was all Grimmjow could do to keep still. He almost couldn't contain his happiness. A wide grin spread across his face as he drove.

Before long, Ichigo was directing him up the driveway of a modest, pale yellow home. They pulled to a stop in front of a one-car garage, and Grimmjow noticed Ichigo wringing his hands together as he looked over at the house's front door.

"You're nervous," Grimmjow stated.

Ichigo's resulting chortle was blurted and filled with trepidation. "I guess I am. I haven't been here for a while."

Grimmjow went to question Ichigo, but the front door to the house sprang open, and a short, sandy-brown-haired girl stood on the threshold, squinting at Grimmjow's truck. Then, her big, brown eyes went even wider.

"Onii-chan?" she called, obviously unsure.

Ichigo smiled and it sent those butterflies in Grimmjow's gut soaring again. The orange-haired teacher climbed from the truck and made haste towards the younger girl, Grimmjow following behind at a more sedate pace.

"Onii-chan!" This time the call was confident and overjoyed. "You really made it!"

The girl was swept into a crushing embrace, and Grimmjow frowned as needles of jealousy nicked his skin all over. It was so abrupt, it caused him to stop in his tracks and stare helplessly at the ground, hands balled into fists. What the hell was that about? While he was in the midst of a small panic attack, another voice joined the first, this one a little deeper, but still very feminine.

"Jeez, Yuzu. Ichi-nii wasn't dead or anything, you know."

Grimmjow slowly let his gaze lift and land on the girl that belonged to the new voice. She was a little taller than the brunette, and her hair was black as night. Her eyes were dark as well, her overall appearance more aggressive than the girl wrapped around Ichigo's middle. Speaking of the orange-haired teacher, one arm was tight around the brunette's shoulders – making them appear small and fragile – while the other arm was on its way towards the dark-haired girl. But suddenly, the arm was smacked away.

Grimmjow's face creased into a frown, even as he watched Ichigo grin widely at the now blushing girl. It was more than obvious that Ichigo had only been trying to be affectionate towards her, but she'd rudely brushed him off. Grimmjow didn't like it. He took a step forward, intent on letting her know just how insensitive she'd been, but stopped when her next words reached him.

"I'm not a baby anymore, Ichi-nii!"

Confused, all Grimmjow could do was continue watching the scene unfold. Ichigo withdrew his arm, smile still in place as he shook his head.

"Still the same, huh, Karin?" he asked.

The girl just pouted and averted her eyes. The other little girl pulled away from Ichigo and peered past him to where Grimmjow stood, brown eyes round and obviously curious. Then she turned her appealing look to Ichigo.

"Onii-chan, who's that?"

Finally, Ichigo glanced in Grimmjow's direction, but his smile never faltered. "Oh," he started. "He's a good friend of mine. Grimmjow, come here."

His face was so hot. It literally burned as he slowly made his way towards the teacher, eyes glued to the ground. He didn't know what he was supposed to say, didn't really know what he was supposed to do, but he figured Ichigo would give him a clue. However, Grimmjow's mind was still focused on the other man's words. Ichigo had announced him as a friend. No, a _good_ friend. Along with the warmth in his face was the riot going on in his belly. Grimmjow felt like he would explode any second now. He stopped next to Ichigo, but kept his eyes downcast. Ichigo chuckled, and the sound made Grimmjow want to smile, but he was too nervous.

"Yuzu, Karin, this is my friend, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. Grimmjow, these are my little sisters."

"Nice to meet you," he grunted, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Although he was shaken by the thrilling notion of meeting new people, he managed to flash the two girls a glance. The dark-haired one stared at him with a skeptical frown, while the brunette watched him with big, inquisitive eyes. The contact proved to be too much for him, so he sent his gaze back to the gravel beneath his feet.

"Wow! You have really pretty eyes!"

He frowned. He hadn't been expecting that, but it did feel nice. He afforded the girl a small smirk, grateful when Ichigo stepped in.

"Where's the old man?" he asked.

The dark-haired girl shuffled her feet and snorted. "At the clinic. Where else would he be at this time?"

"You're right. I forgot."

Grimmjow wasn't immune to the sudden tension surrounding the siblings, but before he could mention it, Ichigo was speaking again.

"Yuz, wanna help me show Grimmjow the place?"

Grimmjow peered from the corner of his eye at the orange-haired man, his stomach still performing delighted acrobats. After the brunette gave her assent, Ichigo's eyes lighted on Grimmjow, lips turned up in a warm grin.

"That sound OK, Grimm?" Ichigo continued.

Grimmjow lifted his head and briefly met Ichigo's kind, brown eyes as he nodded. The teacher returned the gesture before heading up to the wrap-around porch of the house, animatedly chatting with his younger sisters. Grimmjow followed, not even realizing he was smiling so broadly. All he could think about was Ichigo and how the man had called him "Grimm."

**XxxxX**

Grimmjow was seated on the couch in the living room, eyes stuck to the television. Ichigo and his sisters had shown him around the modest house made of mostly white oak and birch wood before Ichigo had retired to the room he'd be sharing with his sisters to unpack the few things he'd brought along. Grimmjow had offered to help, but much like Neliel, Ichigo had overrun him and ordered him to sit in the living room. They were _his_ things, after all.

"Enjoy the TV," the orange-haired man had said.

Grimmjow had felt like he'd had no choice but to obey after that.

He'd been on the couch for a little over a half an hour, not really understanding the antics going on behind the television screen. Ichigo's younger sister, Karin, was beside him. However, he could clearly tell the girl was far from focused on the TV. In fact, if eyes could burn, hers would have caused third-degree scarring. A small eternity passed before Karin spoke.

"Are you Ichi-nii's boyfriend?" she asked.

He'd known she was working herself up to ask him something. Years of being under a microscope by the general public had given Grimmjow excellent instincts, even if he didn't always act on them properly. He turned to the girl and frowned.

"No. I'm-" he broke off, still affected by the casual way Ichigo had announced them as friends. But if the other man could do it, so could Grimmjow. "I'm his friend."

_There_.

The girl arched a brow. "So, you're not having sex?"

It hadn't exactly sounded like a question. Karin's tone had been dry and a little sarcastic, as if she just knew Grimmjow was lying. Well, he wasn't. He didn't like lies.

Angry, his frown deepened as he snapped, "No!"

Karin recoiled, dark eyes widening for a brief moment before narrowing. "You trying to say there's something wrong with my brother?" she growled.

He didn't understand. He hadn't done anything other than answer her first question. "What are you talking about?"

"You said that like there's something wrong with being Ichi-nii's boyfriend. If you're not sleeping with him, why are you here? Do you _want_ to be Ichi-nii's boyfriend?"

The questions were rapid-fire and aggressive, and Grimmjow found himself breathing a little too fast. His hands went clammy, and his heart started racing. He was immensely uncomfortable. What was he supposed to answer first again? Why was he there?

"I-I..." he began. His throat was dry and his tongue felt like it was too big for his mouth. Eyes wide and panicked, he forgot what was going on as he lifted both hands and gripped the hair above his temples.

A noise behind them couldn't even distract him from the intense pressure he felt surrounding him. He knew he should calm down. Maybe Karin hadn't meant any harm with what she'd asked him. However, Grimmjow hated aggression and threatening tones. They made him react poorly, and Neliel would be so disappointed if he let his self-control slip.

"Karin, who is this?" a deep voice inquired a few feet away from the couch.

Again. There was a distinct bite of hostility in the way the question had been put forth. Grimmjow was agitated and getting angrier by the second. He climbed to his feet and made his way over to the stairs. Where was Ichigo? A stern hand on his arm made him whirl around, his own hands raised in defense. A man almost equal in height to Grimmjow stood before him, dark eyebrows pulled into a deep scowl. Nearly black eyes gave Grimmjow a pointed look, while a scruffy jaw was set in place, nothing but hard lines and sharp angles. The man had on a mustard-colored, button-up shirt, black slacks and a long, white lab coat, but the professional attire did nothing to lessen the fierceness rolling off of him in overwhelming waves.

"I asked a question! Who are you, and why are you in _my_ house with my sixteen year-old daughter?"

Grimmjow opened his mouth to answer, but the stairs creaked behind him and automatically drew his attention. It wasn't who he wanted. The brunette sister stood at the top of the stairs, small hand on the banister and face twisted into a confused frown.

"What happened?" she asked.

Grimmjow avoided everyone's eyes and stared at the nearest wall, heart still clamoring wildly behind his ribs. He hadn't felt this way since high school, when all the students in his class had crowded around him, demanding to know why he was so "different." For that very reason, he couldn't calm down. He really just wanted to get away. The thought of going to his truck to do so was becoming more and more appealing.

The man shifted his gaze and glanced up at the brunette, Yuzu. "You know this man?"

Yuzu giggled as she descended the stairs and stood next to Grimmjow. "He's onii-chan's friend."

"Ichigo? He's here?"

"He's upstairs unpacking. Don't you remember he said he was coming today?"

Grimmjow tensed as silence fell. He felt like he was backed into a corner, and the only thing keeping him from losing his cool was the combined thought of Neliel's and Ichigo's reactions. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he gritted his teeth and continued to stare at the wall.

"I forgot that was today," the man muttered.

And then something strange happened.

"YUZUUUU-CHAAAAN! WHAT'S FOR DINNER?!" the man bellowed, honestly scaring the crap out of Grimmjow.

Grimmjow gave the man a startled look, baffled at the abrupt change in behavior. The man had Yuzu in a tight hold, face bright with the smile he wore. None of the lines of hostility Grimmjow had seen just a minute before remained. What was going on?

"You're so noisy!"

Grimmjow whirled around immediately. He had to swallow the strong urge to throw himself up the stairs at the orange-haired man standing at the top of them. Ichigo wore a frown as he glared down at the older, dark-haired man.

"ICHIGOOOO, MY SONNN!" the man shouted at the top of his lungs.

Grimmjow frowned, but his eyes never left Ichigo's form. He was too glad to see him. Never mind the fact that the dark-haired man had just called Ichigo his son.

"Shut up!" Ichigo snapped, but his brown eyes were laughing. Then, he glanced over at Grimmjow, and the laughter in his eyes died, quickly morphing into concern. "Hey, Grimmjow, you OK?" he asked.

Grimmjow wanted to say no, but he didn't want to worry Ichigo. Now that the other man was there, everything would be fine.

**XxX**

After putting his father out of commission for the moment with a well placed dodge that resulted in Isshin falling behind the couch, Ichigo scratched the back of his head anxiously. He looked between the crumpled mess called his father and Grimmjow and knew something was amiss. He just hoped his father hadn't scarred the poor man for life. Isshin was a little hard to take sometimes. When Ichigo had been going through puberty, it'd been pretty rough for a while with someone just as hardheaded as himself. Instead of innocent teasing and laughter, there had just been tension and shouting all the time. It'd been hard for everyone back then.

Breaking out of his less than happy thoughts, he noticed Isshin slinking away, most likely back to the clinic, which just left Grimmjow looking around curiously.

"I warned you," Ichigo grinned slightly, trying to lift the heavy mood that had suddenly descended.

Grimmjow just shrugged. "It seemed like he didn't know I was coming?"

Ichigo blinked, mouth dropping open. His hand went up to smack himself on the forehead. "Oh, dang. No, he knew you were coming, but I never told him what you looked like. I'm so embarrassed. I hope he didn't intimidate you. He's kind of an idiot and should have pieced it together."

"It's fine. If somebody was in our house that I'd never seen before, I think I'd get angry, too."

Slowly, Ichigo's whole face turned red.

_Our house_.

Two simple, stupid words, and he was internally freaking out. Grimmjow considered his home _theirs_. Something nice and warm spread immediately in the pit of his stomach at that thought, something tangible that he wanted to take hold of, but he couldn't. He didn't want to scare the man away. It was just a bit of a shock for Grimmjow to say such an innocently profound statement.

But certainly Grimmjow didn't mean it like that. It was just an offhand comment. Ichigo inhabited a space; he wasn't on the mortgage papers.

"Y-yeah," Ichigo murmured, leaning back against the wall dazedly.

Before he could make a fool out of himself, Karin cleared her throat, still in the room, probably analyzing their interaction with the thoroughness only a teenage girl could possess. This essentially meant she would know if Ichigo was the tiniest bit interested in Grimmjow. She knew Ichigo too well and was too curious to let anything of value mentioned between them go unnoticed. Yuzu had gone off into the kitchen to start dinner, and her voice could be heard singing softly.

"Karin, why don't you go help Yuzu?"

Ichigo knew he was being obvious, but her smoldering stare was making him nervous. She was always so _serious_. He knew where she got that particular trait and that he himself probably needed to relax more, but right now, he just wanted to talk to Grimmjow. Alone.

She stared him down for a few, long moments before reluctantly nodding. "Alright, but only because there's more mouths to feed than she's used to."

Ichigo gave a low chuckle, watching Grimmjow visually relax out of the corner of his eye. Once she left out of immediate ear shot, he turned to face Grimmjow. "I'm sorry."

He figured Grimmjow might catch his meaning.

"Sorry about what?"

Ichigo smiled slightly. "She's a lot like me in some ways. And my dad." He sighed, closing his eyes and feeling a headache coming on. "I wanted it to go differently," he admitted.

Grimmjow looked confused and unsure of what to say. Ichigo felt kind of terrible for dragging him along in this mess. His family was crazy. Loveable...but definitely crazy.

"Wanted what to go differently?" Grimmjow asked, disheveled blue hair hanging into his vivid eyes. He crossed his muscled arms over his chest, brow furrowed.

He looked undeniably gorgeous standing there.

Ichigo fought down a blush, wicked things. "Just, never mind. How about I show you around the town first thing tomorrow? There's honestly not too much to see anyway, and Yuzu's already making dinner. Is that alright?"

Grimmjow gave a quick nod, eyes flicking around the room in curiosity. There were some old photographs hung up, and Ichigo noticed his features trained on a ridiculously old family portrait. He watched Grimmjow walk over to it and stare intently at the five people huddled together.

"That's your mother?"

A long finger pointed, but didn't touch. Ichigo felt his heart restrict, unprepared for the emotion that suddenly rushed over him at seeing his mother's beautiful face.

When Ichigo didn't say anything, Grimmjow turned toward him. "She's got your eyes. And hair. She's pretty."

Ichigo was a little taken aback, and could only bite his lip. Talking about her still hurt.

"Thank you," he whispered shakily and brought his hands up to rub his face. It had been a long day and exhaustion was creeping into his limbs. Ichigo laughed throatily, a touch too loud to be real. "I just can't talk about her yet, Grimmjow. I just can't."

"Ichigo –"Grimmjow started, lips pursed, but he was cut off.

Isshin threw the door open, charging at Ichigo like a mad bull. Ichigo leapt out of the way, throwing his leg out in the process. Isshin tripped and fell to the floor with a groan, nose crushed to the carpet and his ass stuck up in the air. Ichigo kicked him in the ribs for good measure.

"My son! Your strength has indeed improved in our time apart, though your body weight has lowered!"

"Shut up goat face!" Ichigo growled heatedly.

He didn't notice when Grimmjow moved in front of him, blocking his view of Isshin's broken form. Grimmjow glowered at the man.

"Why do you keep attacking him?"

Isshin blinked up at them owlishly, his earlier demeanor changing.

"It's a test," he told Grimmjow proudly.

"He thinks I'm weak," Ichigo grumbled bitterly.

Grimmjow stiffened and whipped around to look Ichigo almost in the eye, wary and disgruntled. "Just because you like m-"

"Dinner's ready!" Yuzu's cheerful voice cut in.

The three men stopped, like they were frozen in the moment, awkward silence making a quick descent.

Isshin rapidly jumped up and ran off into the kitchen, shouting obnoxious things that only served to embarrass Ichigo. Ichigo really wanted to disown his father, and then smash his own face into a wall so he could wake up and find this was simply a bad dream. Grimmjow was looking at him oddly now, probably trying to figure out a way to dump him here permanently and send his stuff back with him. Ichigo honestly wouldn't blame him. He hadn't even met Rukia yet, but this trip was swiftly giving him a migraine.

And Rukia, in some ways, would be worse than his father.

He shuddered at the thought of the petite woman's wrath.

Despite that, though, he missed his best friend. Nothing felt right without her. They had grown up together, fought together, so living separate lives was a difficult task.

"C'mon, Yuzu's a fantastic cook. I really think you'll enjoy it… if you can survive." With that Ichigo turned and headed into the kitchen, chuckling at Grimmjow's hopelessly confused expression.

**Xxx**

Dinner passed relatively without incident. Ichigo was so relieved that after he helped Yuzu and Karin finish up with the dishes, he practically ran and threw Grimmjow from the kitchen and Isshin's suspicious grasp. His father had asked a lot of questions, mostly harmless, but Ichigo knew that Grimmjow got antsy under such examination.

Now they were alone upstairs. Ichigo shuffled his feet awkwardly. The guest room was down the hall, right across from where his sisters slept. His father's room was on the first floor; practical, he'd said, for when he was too old to walk the stairs. It had really been Ichigo's mother's idea. But Ichigo wouldn't think about that, now.

"Want me to help you with the bed? What am I saying? I should do it; you're a guest," Ichigo stammered.

He wasn't sure why he was acting this way all of a sudden. He couldn't place his energy, like he was perpetually nervous in Grimmjow's company, though the man had hardly changed in the last few hours.

Grimmjow chuckled softly. "It's alright. I can do it myself."

Ichigo smiled then, bright and genuine. "Well, I'll still help. I insist. Sheets should be on the bed."

He opened the door and was surprised to find the bed already crisply made.

Yuzu, definitely.

He silently thanked his little sister, more than appreciative. She would make a man very happy one day, he knew that at least.

"The bathroom's right down the hall before you hit the stairs. Not too hard to find. Make yourself at home." Ichigo stood there, enjoying the way Grimmjow seemed to be surveying the room, in clear approval.

"Your old house is nice, Ichigo."

Ichigo was proud to say he didn't blush at that. He just nodded politely and sat down on the bed. "Grimmjow, tomorrow I'm going to see my best friend. I feel bad leaving you here, so you're more than welcome to come with me."

Grimmjow frowned, but didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I think I'll be fine. Your sister, Yuzu, is very nice. A lot like you."

Laughing slightly, Ichigo grinned. "Yeah, she's a kitten compared to the other two. You sure you'll be okay with my dad running loose?"

"I can't say for sure, but I'll try."

Grimmjow looked like he was waiting for something, and it took Ichigo a minute to realize. He jumped up, ignoring Grimmjow's blue eyes widening.

"I'm sorry, I should have, ugh-"

"Stop apologizing, Ichigo," Grimmjow admonished. "You didn't do anything."

Ichigo frowned, feeling ridiculous. "I, well, I know you're probably tired. If you need anything, I'll be right down the hall."

"Thank you."

Leaving Grimmjow to his own devices, Ichigo went down to his sister's room. It was spacious enough to afford the twin's equal sides. Opening the door, Ichigo was reassured that they were as different as the sun and the moon. Yuzu's part of the room was all floral wall paper, peeling with age, and stuffed animals lying about, while Karin's was a bit more somber, decorated with bats and soccer balls against the wall by the bed. A cushiony rug covered most of the floor, and on it lay a few blankets and pillows for him.

He didn't mind taking the floor, and he had a hunch that in the night, his little sisters would join him as well, just like they had when they were young. It was a nice thought, and he felt content to just lie down and bask in the fact that he was home. That his family was all around him, for better or for worse, and his father hadn't made him uncomfortable or stepped out of line.

Closing his eyes, he dosed off.

"Onii-chan!"

Ichigo jerked up and awake, blinking rapidly and looking into Yuzu's excited face. "What's wrong?" he questioned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He noticed Karin standing beside her, smiling slightly.

"Can we sleep with you tonight?"

Her eyes looked like pearls in the moonlight, glowing and beautiful. He never could deny her much.

Ichigo smiled warmly, lying back and making room. Yuzu immediately cuddled up, pillow in one hand and her little stuffed lion in the other. She'd had that thing forever. Karin went to her bed to grab a blanket and curled up on Ichigo's other side without a word. Then she snuggled up to his back. He stretched out, feeling elated and happier than he'd been in weeks. It was such a nice feeling, warmth making him drowsy again. He slept solidly.

**Next time...**


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

**Disclaimer: **We do not own Bleach...

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Grimmjow lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He'd already had a feeling upon arrival in the guest room of Ichigo's old home that he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night, and he was right. It was hard for him to find peace when he wasn't in a familiar environment like his own home or Neliel's. The window in the room was open, the light curtains swaying in the balmy, night breeze and the moon pouring its milky ambiance onto the carpeted floor. The bed was soft, yet firm, but Grimmjow was still unable to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds at a time. No matter how much he tried, sleep persistently eluded him. He finally gave up and sat forward, running a hand lazily through his hair. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and climbing to his feet. He shuffled over to the window and peered through it.

Ichigo's home rested on a hill and was surrounded by a few, immaculate acres of land. The scent being carried on the wind was filled to bursting with the soothing perfume of jasmine and cherry blossom. Grimmjow perched on the wide window sill and leaned his head back against the wooden frame. Ichigo's family was indeed strange. After the encounter with Ichigo's younger sister with the dark hair and formidable eyes, along with Ichigo's oddball of a father, Grimmjow was in no hurry to socialize again. However, after a few more moments of careful thought, he realized that if he didn't involve himself with Ichigo's family, the orange-haired teacher would be incredibly disappointed.

Grimmjow didn't want that.

He listened to the small sounds the house made with half an ear, but most of his attention was diverted to his view of the front porch below him. He'd caught movement from the corner of his eye, and when he turned to check it out, he saw Ichigo settling himself onto a quietly creaking porch swing. The man had a steaming mug in one hand, a plate holding a sandwich in the other. Grimmjow tilted his head as he studied the teacher. What was Ichigo doing up and about at this hour? Of course, it was obvious that the younger man couldn't sleep, but the _why_ was what confused Grimmjow.

After a few more moments of just watching the orange-haired man from the window, Grimmjow stood and decided that he didn't want to be alone. Plus, he was really curious as to why Ichigo was awake in the first place. He didn't bother putting on a t-shirt as he shuffled over to the bedroom door and very slowly pulled it open. Luckily, the floor was carpeted, so his descent to the first floor was a fairly quiet one. He got to the partially opened front door and stepped through, garnering a jolt of shock from Ichigo.

"Grimmjow? What are you doing up?"

"I can't sleep when I'm not at home, and I saw you in the window," he answered as he lowered himself onto the porch swing beside Ichigo. "Why are you awake? You're home, so you should be comfortable."

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Ichigo grunted. He scowled as he set the now empty plate on the floor at his feet. Afterward, he gave a hefty sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for dragging you all the way out here, Grimmjow. I know you don't like being around people you don't know, but...I just...I didn't really want to do this alone."

Grimmjow fought with a sudden onslaught of warring emotions. He didn't know how to respond right away. For one thing, why did Ichigo feel so insecure about facing his own family alone? For another, they had already put an end to Ichigo's uncertainty about Grimmjow not wanting to be there. Why was Ichigo bringing it up again? Although he had a million thoughts racing through his head, Grimmjow started with the one bothering him the most.

"I'm fine, but why are you uncomfortable around your own family?" he asked.

Ichigo pursed his lips and studied the floor. He didn't say anything for a while, so Grimmjow listened to the wind blowing through the leaves of the one tree on the property. He'd almost forgotten his own question by the time Ichigo decided to answer it.

"I told you before about how my Dad doesn't really..._approve_...of my sexuality, but I didn't tell you about the reason I left home to begin with."

Now, Grimmjow was really curious. What was it that Ichigo was keeping inside? Grimmjow nodded and allowed Ichigo to continue.

"My dad and I had a big fight one night, and he said some things that...kind of made me...some unforgivable things."

Grimmjow wanted to ask like what, but Neliel always told him to stop and look at the person he was talking to. If the person seemed upset, then it was more than likely that they wouldn't want to elaborate on the details. So, Grimmjow paused and frowned at the floor, his fingers clumsily toying with one another. The quiet between them was starting to stress him out. He didn't know what he was supposed to say to Ichigo, but Grimmjow could tell by the taut and heavy atmosphere lingering over them that Ichigo was uncomfortable. The worrying caused Grimmjow to fidget and breathe a little faster than normal. He didn't hear Ichigo when the orange-haired teacher obviously asked him a question, but he _did_ feel the firm grasp on his arm. His head jerked up in Ichigo's direction, eyes wide as they alternated between Ichigo's chin and concerned brown stare.

"Are you alright? Grimmjow? Grimmjow! Look here!"

Ichigo's hands were on Grimmjow's face, keeping his gaze steady and locked with his own. Grimmjow hadn't even realized he'd started trembling somewhat, but once he was trapped within Ichigo's penetrating brown eyes, his body settled and his heart began to slow. He felt like he was in a trance, everything else falling away until it was just him and Ichigo left.

"Calm down and breathe. Just breathe, Grimmjow."

It took him a few moments, but once he came back to himself, the familiar sensation of being threatened by another's gaze overwhelmed him. He carefully pried Ichigo's fingers from the sides of his face and lowered his eyes.

"I'm fine now," he grunted, ashamed of himself. He'd come so far with his problem, only to have it embarrass him at the most inconvenient times. "I'm fine."

Ichigo let his hands stay in his lap, thankfully, but his demeanor was still high-strung and concerned, possibly even a little distraught. Grimmjow turned to him, but kept his eyes below Ichigo's chin.

"Stop worrying, Ichigo."

"That's impossible! Why did you just have a panic attack? Why did y-" Ichigo stopped and swiftly inhaled. "Oh, my God! _That's_ why you looked like that earlier by the stairs. _That's_ why you were so happy to see me, and _that's_ why everyone was over there to begin with."

The words tumbled from the teacher's mouth like spilled sugar. It was almost as if with each realization, Ichigo gathered steam. By the time he was done, the orange-haired man was staring at Grimmjow with a scowl and thinned lips.

"Tell me what's going on! I need to know stuff like this in case it happens! I need to-"

Grimmjow covered his ears, squeezed his eyes shut and roared, "I DON'T KNOW!"

Silence.

No one said anything for what felt like forever. The night had gone still; there weren't even any crickets chirping. Finally, Grimmjow exhaled harshly and lowered his hands. He hadn't meant to shout, but Ichigo's demanding tone had begun to make him antsy all over again. Grimmjow kept his eyes closed as he continued speaking in a lower tone.

"I don't know. The doctors tell me that I might have a form of Autism called Asperger's Syndrome, but it's still new to the field. Neliel told me that all the medical jargon just means that I react to emotions differently from everyone else."

This time the silence seemed to stretch on for a little longer. Grimmjow rubbed his hands together as he kept his eyes glued to the dark finish of the wooden floor beneath his feet. Why did Ichigo have to go and ask him something like that? And why did Grimmjow feel the sudden urge to spill his guts to the orange-haired man? It was nerve-wracking. Grimmjow was so uncomfortable, he was on the verge of climbing to his feet and returning to his temporary room, but Ichigo's left hand shot out and gripped Grimmjow's wrist before he could rise.

"So..." Ichigo started quietly, his own eyes on the floor of the porch as well. "You've always been like this then?"

"Yes. Since as long as I can remember."

"That makes sense now."

"What does?"

"Why you can't look me in the eye. Why you can sometimes be completely clueless about personal boundaries. Why you're so fucking blunt."

Grimmjow shot a look at Ichigo from the corner of his eye, one blue brow raised in shock at the profanity Ichigo had used. When he found the teacher doing pretty much the same, his gut warmed as he averted his eyes. Did it bother Ichigo? Did Ichigo think the same as Grimmjow's old schoolmates? Did the younger man think Grimmjow was...a freak? A shudder ripped down his spine as he grimaced. That was the last thing he wanted. As much as he liked Ichigo, it would do nothing to soothe his ire if he found that Ichigo really thought that way about him. In fact, his like for the feisty teacher ensured that Grimmjow would suffer a great deal of hurt if he was rejected. Deciding to just get it over with, he cleared his throat and turned his upper body towards Ichigo.

"Do you think I'm a freak? That I'm crazy? Or stupid?"

"What?" Ichigo was facing Grimmjow as well, left hand perched on his thigh and left elbow bent as he leaned forward on his right forearm and knee. His expression was horrified as he stared at Grimmjow. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

The teacher shook his head and frowned. "No, Grimmjow. I don't think you're any of those. I just..."

"Just what?" Grimmjow asked with more bite than he'd intended. He didn't like the tone Ichigo was using, though. It almost seemed like there was something else that Ichigo had in mind to label Grimmjow with, and he didn't like that at all. "Just what?" he repeated.

"I just wish you would have told me sooner. I would have understood the things you do and say a little better."

"Oh."

Grimmjow deflated as he sat back in the swing. He was overcome with both relief and joy, Ichigo's response settling his nerves in a way that had only worked with Neliel. It was scary as hell. He was used to uncanny perception on the part of his mother, but not a man that he had only known for a few months. And Ichigo was beginning to understand Grimmjow, which was probably the most frightening aspect of their friendship.

But Grimmjow liked it.

As they sat in quiet for the umpteenth time that night, a question popped into the carpenter's mind. He scowled as it drilled into his brain and refused to budge. He tried to ignore it, but that was like trying to ignore Ichigo – it just couldn't be done. Grimmjow sighed and cast an uncertain glance at the man beside him. He wasn't sure he would like what Ichigo had to say to him after he asked his question, but Grimmjow had to know. If he didn't ask, it would drive him nuts.

"Why? Why don't you think I'm crazy or stupid like everyone else does?"

"Because it's obvious that you're not. You're too intelligent to be stupid, and then, the way you are with your mom eliminates the crazy part. Grimmjow, you're not incapable of showing your emotions. I can tell that much from the way you deal with me."

Grimmjow shifted in his seat, his face growing warmer and warmer with each passing second. The only people who had ever said anything like that to him had been Neliel and Barragan. They had been constantly reassuring him that he was just as good as everyone else. That he wasn't worthless. That he wasn't stupid, a freak, crazy. Grimmjow rubbed his nose, frowning at the incessant stinging. A warm bead of moisture slid down over his right cheek, making him swipe at it absently. What was wrong with him? Before he knew it, a hard lump had risen in his throat, and he suddenly had difficulty breathing.

"Grimmjow?"

A comforting hand settled on his back and slowly stroked upwards, igniting his skin and halting his tears. He peered at Ichigo from the corner of his eye and waited for what the man would do next. It was so strange. One minute, he was on the verge of having a breakdown, and the next, he was held in animated suspension by Ichigo's soft touch.

Ichigo's hand skated over his shoulders before dipping down between them and coming back up. Grimmjow wanted to sigh and moan, something he only associated with sex. Eyes blinking wide, he froze. Did that mean he wanted to have sex with Ichigo?

**XXX**

Ichigo was going crazy inside despite his outwardly calm appearance. Grimmjow's panic attack scared him more than he cared to admit, and though he knew he had to be strong for the man, it was no less disconcerting. Then to top it off, seeing those slowing trailing tears had completely ripped Ichigo up inside, his heart clenching at such an unusual sight from someone he least expected.

He wanted more than anything to pull Grimmjow into his arms and hold on as tightly as he could. It was crystal clear how difficult Grimmjow's life had been. Ichigo didn't understand how people could be so horrible. What was the point of running someone down? Making them think they were nothing? Ichigo hated it, hated people sometimes. He hated with a passion those nameless faces that had tormented Grimmjow into believing such ridiculous things about himself and attempting to ruin his self esteem.

Grimmjow's back was warm and solid underneath his hand and Ichigo knew he should probably stop touching the man, for his own good. His skin felt so nice and warm, muscles toned from years of hard work and it just _did_ something to Ichigo, lighting a fire in his belly that he definitely had to ignore unless he wanted to both embarrass himself and run Grimmjow off.

Reluctantly, Ichigo took his hand away, and the night began to catch up to him, making him yawn lowly. He picked up the plate and mug and stood, smiling gently at Grimmjow. "Think you might be able to sleep now? Few hours 'til sunrise yet."

He received a nod in return, and tried not to openly gawk at the way Grimmjow's stomach muscles flexed when he got up, jeans riding low on his cut hips. He also tried not to think other situations in which those muscles could exert. The man made an almost obscene picture, lean and statuesque. Ichigo groaned internally with equal parts want and shame. He shouldn't have thoughts like that about Grimmjow when he knew his feelings would most likely never be returned. It was stupid and he was just setting himself up for heartbreak.

There was an interesting, delicate flush dusting across Grimmjow's cheeks while his eyes were flicked to the side, moonlight outlined his profile, giving him an almost ethereal glow. Ichigo gulped and shook his head. This was definitely becoming a problem he needed to rectify.

They walked silently into the house, which was a pretty intense effort between the two of them. Ichigo opened the door to his sister's room, grinning slightly at the flail of limbs scattered across the floor. His sisters had completely taken over the makeshift floor-bed, tangled around pillows and blankets, leaving no room for a third body to squeeze in or around. Ichigo sighed to himself, thinking of ways of sneaking in that wouldn't disturb them.

"I could take the floor and you could have the bed in the guest room. If you want," Grimmjow whispered beside him, eyeing his sisters with a fondly amused expression. Ichigo shook his head, gesturing to the small closet across the hall.

"It's alright. There's extra blankets in there. I'll just take the couch. Now shoo, you need some sleep."

Grimmjow gave him an almost wistful look before nodding hesitantly, waving as he retreated down the hall. Silence descended again and Ichigo carefully pried open the usually creaky closet door for a spare blanket, frowning at its scratchy texture. Oh, well. He shrugged and padded back down the steps. He would be up in a few hours anyway, heading out to Rukia's.

And boy, that thought did not want to put him to sleep.

The thought of seeing his best friend again was both exciting and terrifying. Rukia would most likely rip him a new one for not telling her about his breakup with Byakuya sooner, but hopefully she would be so elated at seeing him that his beating wouldn't be too severe. He was also worried about leaving Grimmjow in the clutches of his family. He knew by now how to handle the man, but others certainly didn't. He'd just have to tell his sisters to distract his father until he got home, because Isshin was almost too much sometimes for someone who couldn't understand certain ways.

**xxx**

Ichigo woke up with a pained groan, body twisted like a human pretzel on the beat up couch his father had never gotten around to replacing. It had patches sewn onto the back, and holes in the cushions. Needless to say, it was not the most comfortable place to crash. He would have been better taking one of the twins' abandoned beds, pillow or not.

The familiar sound of pots and pans banging had Ichigo lifting up the carpet that passed for a blanket and getting up. He made his way to the tiny kitchen, holding back a smile at the sight of his little sister scurrying around in a soft, pink apron, hair pulled back in a loose bun.

"Need any help?" he asked, already knowing what answer he'd receive.

Yuzu spun around and shook her head furiously. "No, Onii-chan! You're the guest! Now, go sit down!"

Ichigo grinned and leaned against the door frame. He was relieved that she didn't mention his absence from last night. It would have made for a slightly awkward conversation.

"I'm actually going to head out soon. I haven't seen Rukia in a long time."

The delighted expression on Yuzu's face was surprising, and Ichigo raised his eyebrows as she clapped her hands together. "That's a wonderful idea! Is Grimmjow going to drive you?"

Ichigo frowned. He hadn't thought of that. Rukia didn't live that far away – probably a fifteen minute drive. He didn't relish walking there, but he knew his father definitely would not let him borrow the family's only vehicle. Damn. He hated having to constantly rely on the blue-haired man. Grimmjow was so accommodating with him, even though Ichigo rarely had something to give back. When they got home, he would have to think of a way to repay Grimmjow for his kindness.

Speaking of the man, Grimmjow was currently walking down the stairs, barefoot in a pair of worn jeans, probably the same ones from last night. He didn't have a shirt on, either, reminding Ichigo of how intimate their late night encounter had been. He started blushing against his will.

Before Ichigo could greet him properly, a massive hand grabbed onto his t-shirt, throwing him back against the wall of the living room. Ichigo arched his back with a hacking cough, angling a glare at his father's cackling face.

"Ichigo!" a loud, obnoxious voice boomed right in his ear drum, further pounding in the fact that yes, he was home. And his dad was still a crazy asshole.

"What!?" he hissed between clenched teeth, stumbling from the unforgiving wall and tenderly rubbing at his poor back. His spine ached unpleasantly. Ichigo could only hope his glare properly conveyed his annoyance and underlying anger. He could handle his father's antics, but in the morning he wasn't aware enough to anticipate them.

Isshin gave him a curiously smug grin, nodding his head toward the clinic. "I want to talk to you before you head out. That alright?"

Ichigo shrugged, waving a hand at Grimmjow, who seemed speculative of their exchange, but not unsettled like yesterday. Yuzu was too busy putting together some type of mix to give them her attention.

"Sure."

He followed his father into the sterile familiarity of the clinic. It was never very busy, as not a lot of people lived in the area, or even knew it was there. Ichigo knew the man made enough to get by, but that was all. He sat down in a metal chair beside the little desk in the corner, crossing his arms.

"What did you want to talk about?"

It was harder than it should have been to meet his father's eyes. They were dark and yielded nothing, but really, Ichigo had this scenario memorized.

Isshin smiled slightly. "I want you, before you leave, to meet someone. Hear me out on this." A hand going up cut off Ichigo's immediate protest, and he could feel it dying on his tongue. He scowled darkly at the chipped tile of the floor. "She's a great girl. Really quiet. Nice family."

"I'm _gay_, Dad. You know, homosexual?" Ichigo didn't back down from the penetrating gaze focused on him, a frown curling his lips. "I haven't changed since the last time I was here. I'm not going to."

Isshin sighed, shoulders slumping, defeated. He wiped a large hand over his eyes and shook his head. "Ichigo, I just think if you met the right person, that if you _tried_-"

"No!" Ichigo roared, surging up and away from his father's shocked face. He threw his hands up as he turned, so completely fed up with the same conversation time after time. "No! Why can't you just _understand_? Why do I have to _try_?" He spun back around and threw a finger in Isshin's face. "This is why I don't come home!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that they were aimed to wound. The reaction he got did not disappoint. Isshin visibly deflated, exhaling a shaky breath and looking smaller than his actual size.

Ichigo opened the door, biting his lip to stifle the resentment and hurt. "I'm going to Rukia's."

His father didn't try to follow him back into the house, and Ichigo didn't bother looking back. He just wanted to get away. He stormed through the living room, headed straight for the blue haired man sitting at the table. Grimmjow was watching as Yuzu bustled around intently, eyes trailing her every move.

"Would you mind driving me to my friend's?" Ichigo bit out, fist clenching by his side. He tried to hide his anger, but it proved more difficult than he thought.

Grimmjow turned to stare at him, raising an eyebrow. "Your face is red. Have you been crying?"

Yuzu whirled around, just when Karin ambled into the kitchen. They both had their eyes trained on him now. He hated the heated questions in their gazes.

"No," he quickly mumbled. "No, I'm fine. So, would you?"

At Grimmjow's nod, Ichigo rushed up the stairs to put on a decent shirt, his movements harried and robotic. He found a soft, blue button down and pulled it on, deciding his slacks were fine as he ran back down. Grimmjow was standing by the couch, simple white shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest. Ichigo was impressed that he had dressed so quickly.

They walked out to Grimmjow's truck in tense silence. Ichigo was just grateful Grimmjow didn't ask him any probing questions as he sidled into the passenger's seat. Ichigo gave him a weak smile as Grimmjow backed up, watching his house get smaller as they pulled onto the road.

"I know I've thanked you a thousand times, but you know..." Ichigo sighed and waved a hand as his head fell back against the seat rest and he closed his eyes.

Grimmjow didn't say anything for a few moments, his eyes focused on the road. But then he quietly said, "Did you have a fight with your dad?"

Ichigo stiffened. He bit down on his cheek to stop a sigh, because he could handle this, and Grimmjow wasn't prodding him. He was just concerned.

"You could say that. I told you my dad doesn't agree with my sexuality, right? Every time I come home, he tries to talk me out of it. Like if I just tried harder, I could stop being gay." Ichigo let out a bitter, self depreciating, laugh. "He doesn't understand. It pisses me off, and after years of the same mind-numbing lecture, I can't sit back and stomach it anymore. He thinks I willingly went through high school, choosing to be laughed at and beat up, people lisping at me."

Grimmjow frowned and looked over, tentatively meeting Ichigo's eyes. "I don't understand why people wouldn't accept you for being gay. Neliel always told me that being different wasn't a bad thing."

The pit of Ichigo's stomach started bubbling with hope, but he stomped down the feeling. Grimmjow was just trying to empathize with him. Instead of replying, Ichigo just pointed toward the massive house off the road to the left, a long driveway curving down towards it.

"That's Rukia's parents' house. Hopefully, she's home. I didn't call because of the argument. I get so mad sometimes I just see red," Ichigo chuckled, blushing.

"I'll take you up to the door and wait," Grimmjow said with a small smile.

Ichigo's blush intensified instantly. "Are you sure? You don't have to."

Grimmjow shrugged, put the truck in park and moved to get out. Ichigo followed hastily, smoothing down his shirt before hurrying ahead of the blue haired man.

The sense of nostalgia erupted inside of him the closer he got to the massive property. The porch was almost as big as Grimmjow's house, with plenty of grandeur and pomp. Ichigo was relieved to notice Rukia's parents were absent. It made for a much easier experience. Grimmjow waited on the steps, looking down and kicking gently at the dirt absently, hands stuck in his jean pockets. Ichigo took a deep breath, steeling himself as he rapped on the large door. He waited with baited breath for what felt like a small eternity. And then the door opened, his eyes settling on the petite figure of his best friend. She looked up at him with a shocked expression, pale lips falling open.

"Ichigo."

Instead of the beat down Ichigo expected, Rukia's eyes brightened like a light being flicked on, and she threw her thin arms around his neck, height difference be damned, squeezing him for dear life. When they pulled apart, she smiled widely at him.

"There's a face I haven't seen in a while." She raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow expectantly.

Ichigo chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well...work and everything."

"Right," Rukia smirked. "Let's go talk out back. Father is on a business trip, and mother is out with her friends. We won't be bothered."

Following her short figure into the garden that seemed much more like an extravagant jungle, Ichigo was not surprised when Rukia's tiny hand collided with his head as they sat on a charming, white swing surrounded by flowers.

"Guess I deserved that," he grumbled, gently rubbing the sore spot amidst his orange spikes.

Rukia nodded sagely. "Of course you did. Be lucky. I haven't heard much out of you or Nii-sama since you two moved into that house. A post card would be nice once in a while," she said sarcastically.

Guilt and shame immediately coiled tight in Ichigo's gut. He flushed, swallowing before turning so he could properly face Rukia. "So you haven't spoken to Byakuya lately, either?" he asked tentatively.

Rukia's lips slid into a frown. "No, he hasn't called. We just assumed he's been busy with work. How is he?"

Ichigo bit his bottom lip, worrying the soft skin. He figured this would have to be treated like a band-aid. "I wouldn't know. He broke up with me and kicked me out. He moved in one of his co-workers." Ichigo's breath hitched. "A woman."

There was a gasp and small, manicured hands encased his own. "That doesn't sound like him at all. I'm so sorry, Ichigo. Do you have a place to stay? Do you want me to go and kick his ass? I would, for you."

Ichigo laughed roughly and waved her concern off. "No, no, I'm good. I found a place a while ago. I just, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It's just-"

"I understand. You guys were together a long time. I wish I could have been there for you."

"Seriously, Rukia. It's fine. It's over, and I'm over it. Telling you is the final step, and now I can forget all about it." Ichigo frowned bitterly. "I'm surprised you haven't met her yet. I knew he was ashamed of me. Your parents will be thrilled when they meet her."

Rukia shrugged. "Who knows about Nii-sama? But whoever she is, she'll never be better than you. What he did wasn't right, and the next time he comes home, you can believe I'm going to talk to him." Rukia poked Ichigo in the chest playfully. "And you damn well better start visiting more. No excuses!"

Ichigo was extremely relieved and he could literally feel the weight and stress that had been gnawing at him melt away. He and Rukia were good, and he let go of one problem on his checklist.

They sat comfortably for what seemed like forever, Rukia telling him about what had been going on since he last saw her. He told her about his job and the little kids he taught, specifically Hiyori, smiling warmly at the excited twinkle in her eye. He knew she had a soft spot for children; she could put up a tough demeanor all she wanted.

"So who's your friend that drove you?" she asked while nudging his shoulder.

Ichigo blinked several times. "Grimmjow?" He suddenly felt clammy all over.

_Grimmjow_.

He'd forgotten about Grimmjow in his excitement at seeing Rukia. He had left the man standing there awkwardly without so much as a word to him. Ichigo bolted from the swing, nearly uplifting Rukia in his haste to make it back to the front porch.

"Ichigo?!"

Distantly he heard Rukia's shrill, confused voice, but he didn't stop. The spot Grimmjow was previously standing at was empty. Panic flared up, potent, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin.

Relief was like a punch to the spleen when he turned and saw Grimmjow sitting in his truck, the door open with his legs swinging out. Ichigo almost fainted or died of embarrassment. He had forgotten about his friend, who had taken him into his home without complaint when he didn't have anything, and had driven him to see his family out of the kindness of his heart. He hoped Grimmjow wasn't livid with him, but he certainly had every right to be.

"Grimmjow?" he called tentatively.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stood and watched as Ichigo entered the sprawling house with a short, dark-haired female, a small feeling of helplessness budding in his chest. He didn't know what to do. Did Ichigo want him to wait where he was? Did he want him to leave? But wouldn't he have said something? Grimmjow rubbed the back of his head as he looked around the property. The place was beautiful, but he couldn't bring himself to really enjoy the sight. He was too busy worrying about what he was supposed to do now. After a few more minutes of just standing around, his mind whirling with confusion, he headed over to his truck. He didn't want to leave without letting Ichigo know, but he also didn't want to wait around on someone's front stoop. People already thought he was strange _without_ the suspicious behavior.

When he got to his vehicle, he opened the door and slid inside, leaving the door cracked and his legs hanging out. He rested an arm on the steering wheel as he studied the packed earth of the driveway. He tried to fight it, but a distinct sensation of rejection started small, but bloomed into something frustrating and almost overwhelming. Did Ichigo not want to be around him? Did Ichigo like that woman more than he liked Grimmjow? That was disturbing enough to make him wince. Had Ichigo forgotten about him? He just didn't know what to think. He was seriously considering starting up his truck and heading back to Ichigo's old home, when that familiar deep voice called his name.

"Grimmjow?"

He looked up and watched the orange-haired teacher slowly making his way over. Ichigo's face was weird. He looked like he was afraid and embarrassed all at the same time. Grimmjow didn't really know what to make of it until the other man was standing right in front of him, not quite meeting his eyes. Which was fine. The way Grimmjow was feeling at the moment, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to meet Ichigo's gaze, anyway.

"Grimmjow, I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to just leave you there that way. I know I can be absentminded, but that was rude and inexcusable. I'm-"

"Ichigo, it's fine," Grimmjow mumbled, head down and hiding the blush threatening to creep across his cheeks.

He did know that Ichigo was very absentminded at times, and it was a great relief that Ichigo hadn't just left him out there for the entirety of his visit. It was also oddly comforting that Ichigo had come to look for him. It made Grimmjow feel like Ichigo _wanted_ to be around him.

"Are you sure?" the younger man pressed. "I just don't want you to feel like I don't want you around or anything."

Grimmjow went silent as that blush from earlier consumed his entire face. He growled under his breath, trying to get himself together. Ever since last night, his thoughts towards Ichigo had gone into unfamiliar territory. He'd never thought about being with another man, but after having Ichigo's strong, yet gentle hand on his back, Grimmjow's thoughts had been of the lecherous variety. He lifted his head and tentatively met Ichigo's concerned brown eyes.

"I'm OK. I don't think that."

"Ichigo, is everything alright?"

Grimmjow turned to the new voice and watched warily as the small woman who'd answered the door gracefully sidled into view. She was giving Grimmjow a cautious look – probably the same one he was giving her. Did she think he was going to hurt Ichigo or something? Because he would never do a thing like that. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at the woman and nodded.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just came to get Grimmjow. I can't believe I left him out here," he said, a hand going to the back of his neck.

"Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you...Grimmjow?" she said, turning to Grimmjow with her hand outstretched.

Grimmjow studied the small, fragile-looking appendage before carefully taking it into his own. It was warm and soft.

"Yes. Nice to meet you too," he mumbled.

He'd tried meeting her large, dark-blue eyes, but the look in them was so intense, he felt forced to avert his own. He withdrew his hand and climbed out of the truck. When he stood at his full height, the woman's eyes went wide as she looked up.

"Wow, you're pretty tall, huh?"

he just nodded. He felt like he was under a microscope, all eyes on him. It made him fidget, incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily, Ichigo must have noticed because he drew the woman's attention to himself.

"Hey, Rukia, you still make the best sushi I've ever tasted. Wanna go inside and treat your best friend to some?"

The woman, Rukia, turned to Ichigo with an affectionate smile. "How can I say no to that face?"

The tone she'd used made Grimmjow's hackles go up. Did she like Ichigo that way? He understood that they were best friends, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a secret crush on the orange-haired man. The thought was daunting enough to make his stomach drop. Why his stomach dropped to begin with, though, was an entirely different story. He'd only ever felt that way when he was nervous about something or when Neliel was upset with him. He couldn't figure out why he was feeling so unsettled when it came to Ichigo.

Ichigo chuckled and began following Rukia towards the house. After a few steps, he turned back to Grimmjow with a soft grin. "You coming?"

Grimmjow returned Ichigo's grin with one of his own as he nodded and fell into step beside the shorter man.

**XxxxxxX**

Grimmjow toyed with an expensive-looking teacup as he sat at a long dining table. Ichigo was seated beside him to the left, while Rukia was across the table from them both. She had just set down a platter of sushi that was making Grimmjow's stomach growl anxiously. Ichigo glanced over at him and chuckled.

"Dig in."

Grimmjow wanted to writhe in embarrassment, but his focus was solely for the few food items Rukia put on the plate before him. He picked up the disposable chopsticks next to the plate and separated them before sticking an intricately rolled bit of sushi into his mouth. It was delicious. He didn't notice the looks of amusement coming from the other two occupants in the room at all. He didn't stop eating until his plate was completely empty. Only then did he sit back in his seat and rub his belly with a wide grin. Ichigo chuckled again.

"I take it you like sushi," he rumbled.

"I love it, but I've never had sushi this good before."

"Yeah, Rukia makes the best sushi."

Grimmjow nodded. Neliel made good sushi, but this was pretty excellent. Rukia smiled and blushed as she waved a hand in the air.

"Stop, stop," she laughed. "My ego can't take it."

Ichigo laughed with her as he finished eating and set his chopsticks across his plate. As he sat back in his seat, he glanced up at the clock and sighed.

"We gotta get going, Rukia. Don't wanna get back to the house too late, you know?"

She nodded, her big, dark-blue eyes going somber. "I understand. Just don't be a stranger, or else I'll come looking for you."

Her tone made even Grimmjow nervous. Her voice had gone low and almost gruff as she glared at Ichigo. Grimmjow swallowed and alternated his gaze between the two, wondering if she was serious. If the look in her eyes was any indication, she was dead serious. Ichigo scratched the back of his neck and chortled uneasily.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said before giving all of his attention to Grimmjow. "Are you ready to go?"

Grimmjow couldn't help it. He smiled back at Ichigo, not really understanding why every time he looked into those brown eyes, he felt like he could fly. He nodded and stood. When he pulled his eyes away from the teacher, he turned to Rukia and had to do a double-take. Her gaze kept switching back and forth between himself and Ichigo, and her eyes were slightly narrowed even though she wore a quiet grin. It was disturbing enough to make Grimmjow want to leave immediately. Finally, she broke the silence as she too left her seat. She came around the table and stood in front of Ichigo.

"Ichigo, can I talk to you for a minute?"

The orange-haired man frowned a little, but nodded anyway. He turned to Grimmjow and held up a finger. "Wait just one minute, Grimm, OK?"

Grimmjow shrugged as he reclaimed his seat at the table. He didn't know what to make of the way Rukia pulled Ichigo out of the room by the sleeve of his shirt, but he _did_ know that he wasn't altogether _alright_ with her touching him in such a familiar manner. He wondered what she was going to say to Ichigo. Was it about him? Was she going to tell Ichigo that she didn't like Grimmjow? Or was she going to tell Ichigo that she liked him? He was working himself up just thinking about it, so he tried turning his mind to something else. He'd just have to wait and find out from Ichigo himself if the man felt like sharing.

**Xxx**

Ichigo made a point of shooting Grimmjow a reassuring smile before following Rukia on the winding stair case, to her extravagant bedroom that never seemed to change. He was puzzled as to what she wanted to talk to him about, and the confusion only grew as she threw herself down on the wide, navy blue bed centered in the room.

He held up his hands with a smirk. "Rukia, I know I'm ridiculously good looking and everything, but I'm gay."

A pillow to the face spoke volumes about what she thought of his feeble attempt at a joke.

"Idiot." She gave him a sly grin, looking not unlike a fox. "That's what I want to talk about." She nodded her head to the door and raised a suggestive eyebrow. "So, Grimmjow?"

Ichigo sputtered, shaking his head indignantly. "He's not! We're not… He's not _gay_. He's my friend, and he's letting me stay at his house while I get my life together. It's not like that at all."

"Yeah? Doesn't seem that way to me. Seems like he likes you. And, knowing you the way I do, seems to me like you _like_ him, too." The expression on her face left him no room to argue. "I noticed the looks you gave him. It's not subtle, Ichigo, I hope you realize that. I'm actually surprised _he_ doesn't."

Of course, Rukia noticed the way Grimmjow acted. Ichigo wasn't sure if he wanted to explain him, though. He kind of wanted to keep Grimmjow all to himself, which was _stupid_. Who did that? He knew Rukia wouldn't judge Grimmjow, that she was just curious. Still, the possessive feelings that her simple statement evoked wouldn't be pressed down.

"You're over exaggerating. I _do_ like him, but he doesn't feel the same. He knows I'm gay, and he doesn't care, but it isn't his cup of tea. Okay? Done with your meddling?"

"Hey!" Rukia jumped up and got in his face. Her height didn't seem to matter. "I kind of resent that! I just think I would be doing you a disservice by not bringing this to your attention. God knows you can be dense as hell sometimes. You can thank me when he makes a move. I wasn't sure what to make of him at first, but he seems like a nice, if eccentric, guy."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, clearly not getting through to her. "Okay, Rukia. Whatever you say."

Rukia huffed and opened the door. "I'm serious. Start paying more attention, and maybe you'll get your head out of your ass."

She left him there, retreating down the steps. He swallowed hard, her words ringing in his head. He tried to recall any situation that would lead him to find truth in her words. He shook his head and followed her exit.

There was no way. Grimmjow didn't like him. It was ridiculous.

He met electric blue eyes, clearer than any sky, by the door. Grimmjow was looking right at him, intense like nothing else. It made Ichigo feel hot all over, for some reason. Grimmjow had that overwhelming effect on him.

For a minute, he really wanted to believe Rukia.

More than anything.

**'Til next time guys! Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

**Disclaimer: **We do not own Bleach...

**Hi, Racey speaking! I'm just giving a quick promotion of a friend of mine's new book. It's called Break Fall and you can find it on Amazon, if I'm not mistaken. Her name is Kate Pavelle, but the fan fiction world knows her as ichibanseiken. It's really cool and it's also part of a series! **

**On another note, I am slowly getting myself out of this writer's block rut. I hope this inspiration stays. Lord knows my muse is a nomad. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoy! Also feel free to drop Selphiebunny a line or two if you like the chapter! I'm not the only one writing this! Thanks!**

Onwards...

**XXX**

It was hard for Ichigo to stop smiling on the drive back to his dad's house. It finally felt like things were stitching themselves back together in his life. Of course, not everything was perfect but life really never was. He kept sneaking little glances at Grimmjow, mesmerized by the wispy blue tendrils that moved fluidly with the air coming through the window. Grimmjow probably couldn't have painted a more attractive picture if he tried. His behavior, if Ichigo deigned to examine it, could possibly be seen as childish, but he really didn't care.

In retrospect, this trip brought them closer together, and Ichigo wasn't so sure that was a good idea. He cherished the idea of being Grimmjow's friend, but coming to the realization that his feelings were beginning to go a lot deeper, was eye opening. He found himself wanting to touch the man more, and that would no doubt not go over well. Grimmjow was very private, and those touches might be taken as something unwanted.

Ichigo had to steel himself at the very telling thought that he _didn't _want to move out of Grimmjow's home_. _He enjoyed living there and felt comfortable like he never had anywhere. He brushed a hand through his disheveled hair, slumping a little. Grimmjow hadn't said anything about moving out, so how was he even going to bring up the subject without offending the man? Something indescribably solid lodged itself in his throat as he imagined how awkwardly that conversation would go. But then, what if Grimmjow was sick of him? Living in his house, not really contributing much, asking extensive favors? Ichigo frowned and bit his bottom lip. Who wouldn't be ready for a mooch to move out? Ichigo certainly prided himself on being able to be self-sufficient even when he was with Byakuya. It had been a while now since he was kicked out. He was in a much better place, but how much of that was thanks to Grimmjow and not his own efforts?

What if… Ichigo almost let slip a maniacal laugh. What if Grimmjow saw the way he looked at him? Rukia had no trouble pointing out how obvious he was, but he knew Grimmjow was different. He couldn't take what she said to heart, because she had been wrong before, even if she never admitted it.

He clenched his sweaty hand on his jeans nervously. Shinji always gave great advice, surprisingly, when he was in the right mood. Ichigo didn't want to run away from his feelings, or distance himself from Grimmjow, but he needed a second opinion on what he should do about living at Grimmjow's.

One thing he was absolutely certain he had to do was stop his non-relationship with Gin. He enjoyed the sexual release but it wouldn't be right now that he had stronger feelings for Grimmjow, regardless of whether Grimmjow felt the same.

"I think I'm ready to get going this evening and head back. How about you?" he asked quietly, pressing his forehead to the glass.

Grimmjow gave him a little shrug, eyes trained on the road intently. "Whatever you want is fine, Ichigo."

Ichigo smiled slightly. "Did you have a nice time?" He hesitated before asking, but figured Grimmjow would be upfront either way.

"Your family… is interesting. Wasn't bad. I am ready to be back, though. There's a job I'm going to be working on in the next few weeks."

Ichigo nodded, curiosity peaked. Grimmjow rarely expressed excitement, so it was intriguing to hear that easily missed inflection in his voice. However, Grimmjow didn't elaborate and Ichigo decided to leave the conversation be. Grimmjow would tell him what he wanted him to know, when or if he was ready. Ichigo never liked to push people because he hated when the tables were turned.

The rest of the drive passed silently, but the tranquility was welcome and not awkward at all. Ichigo liked these peaceful moments shared between them the most. They just seemed to coexist together without the need for verbal communication.

When they turned into his driveway, Ichigo could only sigh. He hated the way he had spoken to his father, but he was so tired of that reoccurring conversation his dad took pleasure in springing on him. He could only hope his dad would drop it and let Ichigo leave on a good note.

There was no immediate, blood curdling shouting when Ichigo opened the front door, so that was a good sign. His father was probably in the clinic, thank God.

"Let me go grab my stuff and say good bye to my sisters."

Grimmjow nodded, walking past him and heading for the guest room. Ichigo jogged up the steps after him and opened the twin's door, grinning when he saw Karin on her bed, reading a magazine and Yuzu cuddling a stuffed rabbit, doodling in a notebook.

"Hey," he greeted softly, choking on laughs when both girls jumped up and practically tackled him to the floor. He pressed them to his chest affectionately but firmly. "I'm going to get ready and head back, guys."

Yuzu looked up at him with big, watery eyes. "I'll miss you. Do you really have to leave?"

"I know," Ichigo murmured, biting down on his bottom lip. Guilt gnawed in his chest. "If I didn't need my job so bad I might think about coming back for a week or two. In the summer, I'll try, okay?"

"You better," Karin grumbled. "We barely see you."

Ichigo sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll call more often for sure."

"You gonna say goodbye to dad?" Karin prodded, stepping back from Ichigo's embrace.

He shrugged, actually unsure. He didn't want another fight on his hands at all, especially with a long drive ahead of him. The old goat probably didn't care either way. Deep down, Ichigo admitted to himself, that that wasn't quite true. Isshin was a lot of things but he cared for his children.

"Yes, on the way out." Ichigo grabbed the few things he brought that were scattered haphazardly on the floor; resolutely ignoring Yuzu's poorly concealed sniffles. He ruffled her hair gently, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "Hey, Yuzu don't. I swear I'll come back. Please don't worry." She pressed against his side tightly, her head shaking up and down.

"Bye, Nii-san."

Ichigo gave Karin a knowing look. "Take care of her, Karin."

Karin just rolled her dark eyes in response, an obvious "_duh_"left unspoken.

He unlatched Yuzu from his person carefully, like she might break into pieces if he handled her too roughly. Yuzu was strong, though. She'd be just fine with Karin, of that he was sure.

Grimmjow was waiting by the door, muscled arms crossed while he leaned against the wall. He tipped his head up when Ichigo came down.

"Almost ready, just going to talk to my dad."

"No problem," Grimmjow acknowledged.

Ichigo battled away his nerves as he slowly opened the clinic door, ready for anything at this point. Instead of a flying kick to the face, his father was at his desk, reading glasses perched on his face while he scanned a document intently.

"Hey, Dad."

Isshin looked up in surprise. "I didn't even hear you come in. Must be getting old," he grumbled softly, eyes dark and unreadable.

Ichigo could only summon a half smile in reply. "Listen… I'm sorry, about before. I shouldn't have acted that way, and I don't want to leave on a sour note."

There, he said it. He took the high road, and for that he was proud of himself.

His father gave him a hard stare that seemed to last forever before he looked down and sighed, running a large hand through his hair. "I'm just going to have to learn, aren't I?"

Ichigo blinked, confused. "Learn what?"

Isshin chuckled mirthlessly. "To let you live your own life." He got up and pushed in his chair, walking over and catching Ichigo in a massive bear hug. "I may not always agree with your choices, but you're my son, and I love you."

It wasn't an "_I'm sorry_"by any means, but it was pretty close, and Ichigo had to stifle the embarrassing burn of tears. His father was rarely serious, so this admission was important.

Ichigo pulled back and awkwardly patted his dad's back. "Ooookay, I get it. I'll try to visit soon. Gotta get going."

Isshin finally let him go and clapped him hard on the shoulder. "You better! And tell Grimmjow I said it was nice to meet him." A blush rose to Isshin's cheeks that Ichigo had to chortle at.

"Sure thing, goat face."

He ran out before Isshin could throw him into the wall or do something equally traumatizing.

**Xxxx**

When they got back, life returned to normal as if they had never left. Grimmjow threw himself into work, and Ichigo was busy coming up with different activities for the children. Their relationship seemed to be just as solid as before, but transformed. Grimmjow spoke to him more, especially in the mornings when Ichigo was still blearily half asleep.

At school, Ichigo found he _missed _Grimmjow. Just the fact that the man wasn't around created some kind of loneliness inside Ichigo, even though he was constantly surrounded with excited, bubbly, bright eyed kids.

One day after most of the children had cleared out, Ichigo was resting in a chair, talking to Shinji, and worked up enough nerve to mention Grimmjow and the situation he was creating for himself. Shinji gave him a sly, knowing look and shrugged casually.

"Ichigo, you can be really _dense _sometimes." He said it so emphatically, like Ichigo was a complete idiot for not understanding such a common fact about himself.

Ichigo huffed indignantly. "What?!"

"If Grimmjow wanted you to move out and thought you were such a burden, don't you think he'd have said something by now?" Shinji even had his eyebrow raised mockingly as he spoke, his piano key smile out in full force.

That was probably true, Ichigo conceded. Grimmjow certainly didn't mince words. "Yeah. I just don't want to make him uncomfortable if I do something."

Shinji chuckled to himself, careful not to jostle a napping Hiyori. "I doubt you'd do something he didn't like, from what you've told me."

Ichigo scowled and knew he looked like a tomato. "I don't know why I even bother talking to you sometimes."

Shinji smiled wanly. "Because I set you straight. Lord knows what you'd do without me. Don't move out. Seriously, Ichigo. It's a dumb idea and you deserve to be happy."

Snorting, Ichigo shook his head. "Whatever. Don't you have better things to do than listen to my personal life?"

"Tch, so ungrateful." Shinji stood and cradled Hiyori close to him, walking to the door. "Listen to what I said."

And then he left.

Ichigo frowned, hating how rational Shinji could be at times. The guy could be crazy one minute and scarily serious the next. Ichigo wanted to ignore his advice, but his gut told him _not _to. There was nothing wrong with staying with Grimmjow, as long as the carpenter wanted him around, which it seemed he did.

Ichigo smiled crookedly and packed up his bag, anticipation at seeing Grimmjow hurrying his actions. He hadn't felt like this in such a long time; the feelings were so alien.

XOXOXO

Outwardly, he was the picture of calm, but inwardly, he was a wreck. Grimmjow was seated on an overturned, white bucket, his hands busy in front of him and Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" playing softly in the background from his radio. Any other day, the classical tunes would induce a trance, soothing him as he worked on his wood carving. However, all he could think about was Ichigo. He swallowed as his hands stilled for the umpteenth time that afternoon. He found himself staring at nothing in particular as his thoughts went to his roommate.

Ever since the trip to the Kurosaki home, Grimmjow had been thinking about the orange-haired teacher in ways that could only be described as lustful. He wanted to touch Ichigo. He wanted to run his fingers through the man's soft-looking hair, wanted to _feel_ him. It was frustrating because he just didn't know whether Ichigo would approve or not. Would the man laugh at him? Or worse, blow up in explosive anger at him? Grimmjow wasn't satisfied with either of those results.

He blew out a breath and shoved a hand through his hair, which was standing up on his head in confusion by now. His nature was screaming at him to just tell Ichigo what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Then, he would hear Neliel's voice in his head. _"Grimmjow, you have to at least TRY to be mindful of others' feelings." _But how the hell was he supposed to do that? Ichigo was too unpredictable. He never reacted in ways that Grimmjow expected him to, which usually ended with the two of them angry with one another. Things had been running along fine since their return, and Grimmjow was in no rush to ruin the easy camaraderie they'd established.

They were friends.

Grimmjow grinned broadly without even realizing it as the thought entered his mind. He recalled Ichigo's bright smile, cavernous dimples and those warm, brown eyes. He didn't quite know what to do with himself. It was nice talking to Ichigo, nice being around him, but he really wanted more. He wanted to have sex with him. Though, he wasn't sure how that would happen. The dynamics of the act itself were enough to confuse and frustrate him. If they both had the same parts, how would they fit together? He knew how sex was performed – knew that there was a specific part of the woman's body that he was supposed to enter, but did that hold true for Ichigo? It _couldn't_. He was aware of that; hell, he wasn't _dumb_.

He caught himself staring off into space again and came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to get any work done. Not with his mind in a frenzy the way it was. He was just about to climb to his feet when he heard the garage door open. Ichigo stepped down the two stairs and slowly walked over to him, wearing a friendly smile. Grimmjow's reaction was almost instant: his grin was so big, it took up most of his face.

"Hey," Ichigo greeted. "What're you up to?"

Grimmjow glanced down at the half-done wood carving in his hand and sighed. "I was trying to work on this figurine, but I can't concentrate."

"Why not? Everything alright?"

Ichigo seemed genuinely concerned, and his brow was furrowed, but his voice was tentative. It was clear that he was treading as softly as he could. The urge to tell the man exactly what he was feeling was so strong, it nearly overpowered Grimmjow. He rose from his perch and carefully closed the gap between himself and Ichigo.

"I have..." he paused, frowning as he tried to figure out a way to say what he was thinking without offending the orange-haired man. He looked down into Ichigo's eyes for a brief second before averting his gaze and losing his courage. "I have a lot going on in here," he finally said as he pointed to his temple. "It's distracting me."

Ichigo tilted his head to the side as he considered Grimmjow. He could feel the man's eyes roving over his face, so Grimmjow kept his focus on the door that Ichigo had used to enter the garage. He was sure that whatever was on Ichigo's mind was bound to come out much sooner than later.

"Is it me?"

Grimmjow's eyebrows flew up. "How did you know?"

Ichigo didn't react the way Grimmjow had been expecting him to. The younger man deflated on the spot, his shoulders sagging and mouth turned down at the corners. It was so abrupt that it flustered Grimmjow beyond reason. Without even realizing it, he reached forward and put both hands on Ichigo's shoulders. Brown eyes looked into his before Grimmjow fidgeted and lowered his head.

"Why do you look like that, Ichigo? I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know I'm probably a burden to you, Grimm. I get in your way, and I disrupt your routine. I'll understand if you...if you want me to leave."

The sharp pain in his chest that followed Ichigo's statement made him grimace and lower his hands from the teacher's shoulders. He returned to his bucket and sat down hard. His breathing was coming fast and shallow, his head starting to go light. He didn't realize he was panicking until Ichigo was squatting beside him, a soothing hand on his back.

"Hey, wait. Listen to me, Grimm. Hey," he said softly.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, squeezing as if he were trying to crush a coffee bean. Did Ichigo want to leave? And how long had the man been thinking that way? That was the last thing Grimmjow wanted. If he had it _his_ way, he'd make sure that Ichigo stayed with him forever.

"I don't want you to leave here, Ichigo. I don't. I really _don't_."

"OK. Alright. I guess I misunderstood. Just...calm down, OK? Take deep breaths with me."

Grimmjow focused on the sound coming from Ichigo's mouth, focused on the rising and falling of the man's chest from the corner of his eye. It took a while, but when he came back to himself, he was leaning forward on the bucket, gaze distant and unfocused.

"I'm sorry, Grimm. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You...you don't have to apologize," he mumbled before sitting up straight and daring to look Ichigo in the face. "Just don't _leave_. I don't _want_ you to."

The look Ichigo gave him made him turn his head and glare at the wall opposite him. He loved Ichigo's eyes, so why was it so hard for him to keep eye contact? Why couldn't he just be _normal_? If he was normal, maybe he would be able to tell Ichigo about all of the new feelings he was experiencing. Maybe he'd get a positive response. Maybe – _just maybe_ – he wouldn't have to worry about pissing off his only friend all the damned time. He was so frustrated, and his anger kept rising and rising until he couldn't take it anymore. He leaped to his feet and paced the garage, hands wringing together as his thoughts bunched together and spilled from his mouth.

"I hate this!" he snapped. "I hate that I can't talk to you without thinking that I'll make you mad! I _hate_ it!" he growled through clenched teeth as he grabbed the hair at his temples. Just as soon as he had, his hands dropped to his sides and tightened into fists. "And I hate not being normal! I hate the way people look at me and talk about me like I'm not even fucking there! I-I hate being this way! Why can't I just be normal for once in my whole fucking life?!" he ended in a roar.

He was sure that Ichigo was looking at him like he was freak of nature, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to be like everyone else who talked and laughed and did regular things together. He wanted to be able to have relationships, have friends – not walk into a room and shoot all of his chances to hell before they even existed. Angry tears wound their way down his cheeks as he continued to pace and rant.

"I can count on one hand _all_ of the people who've ever said anything nice to me! _One hand_, Ichigo! And I feel things! I just...I might not be able to get them across the way I'd like to, but I _feel_ things! I feel sex; I feel happy; I feel mad; I feel _everything_! I just can't tell what it is all the time! And people are so fucking _mean_! You think they bother to find out _why_ I am the way I am?! Hell no! Hell no!" he finally quieted down and pressed a closed fist to his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. Then, he mumbled, "They hate me, and they don't even know me."

He was distraught. He couldn't gather his bearings, and it seemed like _everything_ was just tearing into him all at once, and all because he just wanted to tell Ichigo that he wanted him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before he glared at the floor, angry with himself for losing all semblance of control. He was terrified of what Ichigo would think of him now. Still highly upset, he lowered himself to the floor and sat Indian-style. He was trying to think of anything but what had just happened, but it wasn't working. His tears kept falling, and his head was beginning to hurt...and Ichigo _still_ hadn't said a word. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth slowly. That sometimes calmed him down whenever he had an episode and Neliel wasn't around to help him out of it.

He didn't hear Ichigo's quiet footsteps as the teacher came closer, but he felt the arms around him. He felt Ichigo's warmth and involuntarily relaxed, his body gravitating closer on its own. But fear of being scorned or misunderstood made him back away enough to glance into Ichigo's brown eyes. What he saw stunned him speechless. Ichigo had tears tracking down his tanned cheeks, his orange brows pulled into a sad frown. One of his hands crept into Grimmjow's hair and massaged the scalp, which was really nice. That almost always put him to sleep whenever Neliel did it. After a few moments of sitting in silence, Ichigo leaned away, but kept one arm around Grimmjow. The other came up to Grimmjow's face and gently turned it. He struggled against it. He wasn't ready to look Ichigo in the eye, especially not now. Not after he'd had the mother of all episodes.

"I know this is hard for you, Grimm. I _know_ it's hard. God knows I couldn't even begin to imagine, but...look at me. I _won't_ hurt you. You can take your time, but I want you to look at me when I say this."

His heart felt like it was pulsing in his mouth as he allowed Ichigo's hand to turn his face in the man's direction. For what felt like forever, he focused on the teacher's chin and bottom lip, but finally...he met the other man's gaze. He was expecting that familiar fear of being exposed or threatened, but oddly, all he felt was...what was it? It made his stomach feel hot and fuzzy, made his heart pound furiously, made his mouth dry. He'd never experienced it before.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Ichigo started, voice soft and eyes even softer. "I'm sorry you're _still_ going through it. But you're not alone. You have your mom, Nel, and...well...you have me now. You don't have to feel so frustrated anymore, and I know that seems impossible right now. I know it seems like people will never understand what you go through everyday, but that doesn't matter as long as you have us. Who cares what they think? I hate seeing you like this."

Grimmjow figured it was safe to lower his gaze. Ichigo's eyes were so brown and intense – almost like the tea the younger man liked to drink in the mornings. Grimmjow didn't want to move away, so, making sure he kept his eyes on Ichigo's collar, he reached up and touched Ichigo's face, a small smile appearing at the corners of his lips when he realized how nice touching Ichigo felt.

"OK," was all he could say.

**XXX**

Ichigo barely held back the choked sob that struggled to escape his mouth. In this moment, Grimmjow was so real and honest, and his hand felt so soft. Ichigo had always been fascinated by Grimmjow's hands. They were large and callused, but the way they worked on projects made them seem nimble and adept. Ichigo's heart swelled, and he wanted to just crush Grimmjow to him and never let him go. He wished this moment could last.

He looked to Grimmjow's perfectly sculpted lips, and gulped inaudibly. It was so hard not to lean a bit closer and erase the gap between them. Heat seeped into his cheeks and he could feel a spark jolt up his spine at the mere thought of kissing Grimmjow. Now was certainly not the time, but it was so difficult to reign in his thoughts.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo began, trying to choose his words carefully. "I don't want you to feel like I'm going to get mad at you when you say something. That would never happen, _ever_."

Grimmjow gave a little shrug but didn't look up. Ichigo sighed, hoping to see those incredible blue eyes locked on him. It always gave him a small thrill inside when Grimmjow felt comfortable enough to look at him. Heat burned his cheeks, and he could feel the emotion gurgling up, tears pushing at his defenses to get out once again.

"I'm not going anywhere, Grimmjow. As long as you want me here, I'm staying." Ichigo didn't want to leave, anyway. The thought actually pained him. He hoped Grimmjow could hear the conviction in his voice. Tendrils of blue hair touched his arm as Grimmjow nodded. "I care about you so much. It's hard, sometimes, because I feel like I just take up space. But to know you want me here, too..."

"Of course I want you here," Grimmjow practically growled, his voice subtly unsteady. "I already told you."

Ichigo's cheeks heated up at Grimmjow's rough statement, and he felt happiness that he couldn't place. It was such an all consuming feeling. Being with Grimmjow had become a staple in his life. His growing feelings for the man were expanding every day, and Ichigo could hardly imagine his life without him, now.

"Would you like some tea?" Ichigo murmured in what he hoped was a soothing tone. The tension was still thick between them, and Ichigo didn't like it. He certainly didn't want Grimmjow upset. Wiping his eyes, he reluctantly let go of the other man, and offered up his warmest smile. "I think we deserve some."

Grimmjow blinked at him owlishly, like he was trying to process the sudden shift in mood but wasn't quite there yet. Ichigo chuckled and offered him a hand, pleased when Grimmjow took it. They both walked out into the kitchen, Grimmjow taking his spot on the counter, content to watch Ichigo commence his tea ritual.

Silence ruled the atmosphere, but Ichigo didn't mind. It helped calm him down, and glancing at Grimmjow, the carpenter seemed lost in his own world, as well. They worked well together without words. The shrill whistle of the tea pot broke the tranquility, startling Ichigo from his position against the refrigerator.

His heart ached these days. It seemed to swell in his chest every time he looked at Grimmjow. It wasn't right, Ichigo knew. These intense feelings would only serve him more heartbreak and worry. Grimmjow was his _friend_. He handed over a cup, licking his lips at Grimmjow's small grin as thanks. Everything about him seemed chiseled from marble, like God had handcrafted this man just for Ichigo's torment and secret desire.

Ichigo stared down at the tea gently sloshing in his white, porcelain cup. His thoughts were so jumbled and it felt like static blared behind his eyes. His hands shook a little, sweat beating on his neck, and he couldn't understand why he felt like this.

He looked up, seeing Grimmjow sitting there, sipping tea and staring at the floor. He seemed to be lost in thought, just like Ichigo. He had never looked so perfect, which Ichigo thought couldn't be possible. He could only recall the first time he saw this man, working diligently on a porch for a house that never seemed home to Ichigo. He felt a chill run through his bones.

Ichigo's body moved with out his consent, his tea cup left behind on the table. He slowly stepped into Grimmjow's space, catching the other man off guard by his obviously raised brows when he realized just how close they were. Arms on either side of Grimmjow's knees, Ichigo closed his eyes and leaned in.

Their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss.

XOXOXO

He didn't even have time to think, let alone prepare for Ichigo's close proximity. One minute, he and the teacher were sharing the silence sitting across the room from one another, and the next, Ichigo was standing between his legs. Grimmjow was confused until he felt the feather-light weight of the orange-haired man's lips against his own.

Normally, he abhorred kissing. He felt it was gross, and just the thought of another's person tongue inside his mouth was enough to make him gag. However...this was different. No one had ever done this to him before. Ichigo's eyes were closed, but Grimmjow couldn't shut his, even if his life depended on it. He stared at Ichigo's serene face as the other man pressed closer, those spiky, yet soft, orange bangs brushing against Grimmjow's eyebrows. His heart felt close to beating out of his chest, and something big grew even bigger within him. He lifted his hands and placed them on Ichigo's shoulders, if only to steady himself. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but this was...this was nice. In fact, he didn't want to move away. This kind of kissing was definitely something he could handle.

And then his thoughts caught up to what they were doing – to what Ichigo was doing to him. Ichigo was _kissing_ him! That had to be good, right? That had to mean that the younger man was, at the very least, _somewhat_ interested in him...right? Or was this just another way of soothing his nerves? Ichigo was very good at calming down Grimmjow, and while it was frightening, it was also pleasant. He liked Ichigo, so he didn't mind that the teacher had a way about him that reminded Grimmjow of Neliel. But kissing was supposed to be different. It was supposed to represent lust and affection. Did Ichigo feel that for him? Or-

All too suddenly, Ichigo was moving away, eyes still closed and full lips parted. Grimmjow wanted to look away, but he was unable to. Especially once Ichigo hummed with what appeared to be pleasure. Neither man said a word for what felt like forever, but Grimmjow was overtaken by an overwhelming urge to draw the teacher close again. As it was, his hands tightened on the man's shoulders. Ichigo opened his eyes, the look there hesitant and nervous, but also similar to the way Rangiku looked at Grimmjow when she wanted to have sex with him. Grimmjow's heart clenched and his hopes soared. He _had_ to know.

"Are we going to have sex now?"


End file.
